Precious Things
by PhantomTF
Summary: The Autobot army is just barely surviving. But a message from Punch shows how much they have left to lose.
1. Chapter One

Precious Things 

by Phantom

Chapter One 

When had it all started? 

The tall, sleek figure frowned to himself as he studied the pitted, battle-scarred landscape. This war had been dragging on for what was almost literally a lifetime. True, nine million years wasn't old for a Transformer by a long shot. If so, then why did he feel so positively ancient? The memories of ceaseless combat stretched back so far that he could scarcely remember what peace was like. 

A stab of emotional pain burst through him as his optics roved over the twisted surface of his home. Cybertron, the once vibrant planet, practically pulsing with a life all its own, was now a burnt-out hulk, a painful reminder of the true consequence of war. 

"Optimus?" a soft voice whispered behind him. The gentle inquiry went unheeded. 

Alita came up beside her mate and slipped an arm about his waist. "Please don't look so sad," she pleaded. "I know the recent silence has you worried, but brooding about it won't help." She gestured at the expansive view through the observation window. "I know that it's not exactly in the best shape it's ever been, but Cybertron still has a sort of dignified beauty that has endured all these years. Despite everything that has happened, it has endured, and so will we. Cybertron is still worth fighting for." 

Optimus turned to face her, and she was shocked at the frustration and despair so clearly displayed, despite the mask. "That's just what I'm afraid of," he murmured. "Cybertron has been worth fighting for since the war started, but no side has ever been able to hold on to her for long. Instead of showing our appreciation by working in harmony to rebuild our planet, our race is in disharmony, squabbling like schoolchildren over the last piece of candy." Alita did not understand the precise wording of this allusion, as with many of his other Earth sayings, but she could easily grasp the concept. "We have shown our appreciation jealously, trying to possess her entirely. We have showered our prize with bullets instead of energy, and now all that we have struggled so exhaustively for is all but destroyed." 

He grasped her by the shoulders suddenly, startling her a bit. "Why are we fighting?" he asked her forcefully. "No, not the same old worn-out reasons," he cut her off as she opened her mouth. "After nine million years of war, I no longer feel obliged to protect the universe from the Decepticons. The lines have blurred so much over the years that I'm no longer sure anyone is in the right." 

Alita stared him full in the optics for a moment. "I don't now why we're fighting anymore," she whispered. "I would give anything to just lay down my weapon and surrender if it would mean my death and a release from all these senseless battles, but I know all too well that we would be left alive to watch as everything we've fought for falls to ashes. We have to believe we're doing some good, otherwise we are lost." 

She wrapped her arms around his waist, embracing him. She sighed in relief as he folded her into his arms, accepting the solace that she offered. She had seen him question the war throughout the years, doubting their motives and reasons, but never with such despair. The destruction of Earth a month ago had hit him very hare, and even Perceptor had noted the change in his leader's mood. In atonement for the unbearable amount of grief swamping him, Optimus had erected a monument to his second home with his own two hands. Three days later, it lay in ruins, as did the planet itself. 

"Come to bed, love," Alita murmured in his audio sensor, stroking his back reassuringly. "There's no sense in brooding out here." 

Prime's gloom lifted a bit as he smiled at her with his optics. "I love you so much," he sighed as he caressed her jawline. "I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you. You're all I've got left." 

"Don't think about that now," she soothed, steering him towards their quarters. "I'm here, and that's all that matters." 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two 

'What now?' Optimus groaned as the office door slid open, discharging one visitor only to admit another. 'I ought to charge by the minute, then I'd be rich and could retire.' He fought down a bitter laugh. Instead he pasted on his 'capable, efficient leader' expression. "What can I do for you, Perceptor?" It *would* have to be him, of all mechanisms. 'I wonder if he'll short out his vocal box this time?' he mused, then felt a wave of guilt. Perceptor was a bit more verbose than most, but he was through and enthusiastic about his job. He didn't deserve to be insulted, especially by the Autobot commander, who was supposed to be impartial and non-judgmental. 

A feeling of uneasiness took root when he caught sight of the scientist's expression. Perceptor, who was frequently teased for his absent-minded and easygoing demeanor, now looked distinctly distressed. "Prime, I believe that we have a crisis on our hands." 

Optimus frowned behind his mask. "Perceptor, those are dire words." 

"I am aware of that," Perceptor fretted, "but I believe the situation warrants no less. I was scanning a remote sector of the galaxy in order to study the decay of a red giant star, but my instruments picked up something far more interesting and disturbing." 

Optimus took the proffered data pad and studied it carefully, then looked blankly at his science officer. While Perceptor, contrary to his name, tended to be a bit unobservant of his non-work surroundings, he had seen that look, most frequently from Ultra Magnus, to understand what it meant. "There seems to be more mass in this galaxy than is accounted for by the assorted planets and asteroids. I surveyed the transmissions received by my vidcam, but nothing unusual has appeared." 

Optimus chewed this over for a moment, breaking down Perceptor's inherent technobabble into mentally digestible fragments. "So there is more mass than there should be. What does this mean? Is something hidden there?" 

Perceptor looked even more pained. "Difficult to say. If something is hidden there, it isn't registering on our other sensors. I've never heard of this phenomena before, so I strongly suspect that whatever it is is being obscured by a cloaking field." 

That was the last thing that Optimus wanted to hear. This did not bode well at all. Optimus asked the same question that he always did whenever something unusual took place. "Could the Decepticons be behind this?" 

"Quite possibly." 

"What would they want to hide in such a remote corner of space?" Optimus pondered aloud. 

"Perhaps it has something to do with the destruction of Earth," Perceptor suggested, oblivious to Prime's flinching as if in physical pain. 

Optimus quickly quashed the guilty feelings rising within him. "Perhaps. What the Decepticons will do with such an enormous quantity of energy is frightening. Knowing Galvatron, he could have destroyed the Earth on a whim, but I have a dark premonition that something more sinister is at work." 

"I would like your permission to run several scenarios through Teletran Seven." 

"Agreed," Optimus confirmed. He glanced at the sizable pile of paperwork on his desk, then firmly turned his back on it. "I'd like to accompany you. We should learn as much about this troubling phenomenon as possible." 

The two robots strode towards the command center briskly, Optimus greeting his underlings politely but distantly, almost as distracted as his science officer. The tight ball of dread and foreboding in his gut was growing. He felt as if events were crashing down on his head. 

"Hello, Teletran," Optimus said to the huge supercomputer as he entered the spacious command center. 

"Hello, Optimus," the computer replied in melodious tones. "How has your day been?" 

"I've had better," he confessed ruefully. He had gotten used to making small talk with the computer, treating it as another of his soldiers. The designers realized that users would interact better with a computer with a pleasant voice, rather than the flat, inflectionless tones of the prototype, especially if the voice was feminine. Sometimes a sympathetic voice could do wonders, no matter its source. 

"What can I do for you today?" 'she' inquired. 

"Perceptor would like to run a few programs," he replied. 

"That would be--" The computer's steady voice rose in intensity, indicating an urgent matter. "Receiving an emergency message from undercover operative Punch." 

The visage, lined with feminine contours, faded away and was replaced by a much more disturbing sight. Punch, in his Decepticon Counterpunch persona, stood desperately hunched over the monitor at the other end. "Optimus! Thank Primus I reached you!" he gasped, energon and other viscous fluids flowing from myriad wounds. "Something's going down here, something huge!" He jumped as a loud and powerful hammering began at the door behind him. "The 'Cons have built a huge battleship, much more formidable than even Scorponok! I'm telling you, the thing's virtually unstoppable! The project is so sensitive that I tripped an alarm just accessing the subject." 

The huge metal door behind him began to dent inwards ominously. Punch grasped the console, knowing that these few moments would be his last. "They're on to me now, Prime. They know that I copied the blueprints and that I'm sending them to you. My service to the Autobots is at an end. I just hope that my life has bought all of our kind a chance of survival. Good luck and farewell, leader." He quickly typed in a few commands, initiating a data transfer from the Decepticon base to Teletran Seven. Optimus oversaw the reception intensely, not wanting Punch's sacrifice to be in vain. 

As the last bytes of information finished their instantaneous journey, the door behind Punch gave way, shattered by a powerful cannon blast. A horde of Decepticons rushed into the room, led by a distinct imposing purple figure whose character would not be complete without the maniacal grin. "Counter Punch, you wound me," he growled, aiming for sarcastic humor but missing the mark. 

Punch turned towards the behemoth and straightened his shoulders, accepting his fate. He shifted form, wanting to die as an Autobot. So many times he had felt a pull towards the other faction, a part of him relishing the backstabbing and fuel spilling that was an undeniable part of the Decepticon hierarchy, but in his final hours he had been able to clear his mind and serve his cause. He was in a way relieved that the deception, walking the fine line not only between Autobot and Decepticon (for sometimes the difference was not so great) but between control and lunacy, could at last come to an end. He could be himself. 

"What's this?" Galvatron laughed mockingly. "Your Decepticon form, however traitorous it was, was more becoming. No matter, for not a single fragment of either will excape my wrath." 

He turned and sneered at the horrified visage of Optimus Prime on the screen. "Know this, Optimus! With the death of your precious operative begins a new era in the Decepticon Empire! You may struggle and fight as much as you like, it will do you no good! We are invincible!" 

"Power to the Decepticons forever!" Cyclonus exclaimed, raising his fist in the air. The chant was echoed by the throng of fuel-thirsty Decepticons behind him. With the cheer still reverberating in the air, Galvatron shattered the viewscreen, mercilfully sparing Optimus and Perceptor from seeing what, no doubt, would be a very grizly and agonizing death. 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Optimus ran a hand over his weary optics as he studied the organized chaos around him. He never ceased to be amazed by the constant bustling activity. The little groups clustered in the corners comprised the larger, well-oiled machine of the Autobot army. Optimus knew what was expected of him and played the part as best he could, reassuring the downcast and depressed while at the same time calming those seized with feverish desires of revenge. Punch had had his problems, but he'd hidden them well and had been quite popular among those that served with him. Punch had understood the risks involved in every mission that he accepted, but that didn't console many that had known him. Optimus sighed inwardly. If Ironhide were still alive, he'd be whipping the others into battle frenzy. It had always been hard to restrain his friend's enthusiasm, but Ironhide, despite his cantankerous manners, had always been able to keep morale high. But what Optimus missed most was his old friend's silent understanding and support. Still, Optimus knew that he had to stop living in the past. He saw the respect and almost reverent admiration in their gaze, and he tried to push his own despair aside. He had to be strong for their sake. Their devotion to him was solid and unquestioning and he would do his best to honor it. He just prayed that he wouldn't let them down.

"Attention, everyone!" he said loudly, clapping his hands. The immediate silence that ensued was almost deafening. "I know that you'd all like more time to get organized, but time is one thing we can't afford to waste. You have two more minutes to prepare for the briefing." The Autobots were silent for a moment more, assuring that their leader had finished, and then resumed their frenetic activities at twice the speed.

Optimus turned away from the hum and buzz of many voices and walked towards a large viewport, gazing out thoughtfully at the stars above. To the casual observer, and even some close friends, he appeared at ease and relaxed, but those who knew him best would understand just how well he had perfected this fa?de over the millennia. 'What on Cybertron are we facing?' he mused, looking at the scenery outdoors but not really seeing it. 'Is there anything we can possibly do to stop it? Or are we already doomed? After all our struggling, is it really going to end like this, being hunted down one by one until we're all destroyed?'

Alita joined him wordlessly in front of the viewport, not trying to offer empty words of encouragement or hope that would sound false. Optimus studied her profile and felt his spirits lift slightly. Just having her by his side was reassuring. He was a bit taken aback at the sudden rush of emotion he felt. She still had the power to affect him after all this time. She turned slightly and smiled at him, then walked away. He took her cue and followed. He couldn't put this off any longer. It was time for the briefing to begin.

He assumed his spot at the head of the enormous table as his many high-ranking officers filed in and seated themselves. He gave them a moment to get settled, noting their anxiety, then he rapped on the table gently with his fist, an unnecessary gesture, since all optics were upon him. "Now then," he said, "I want to know exactly what we're up against. Perceptor, tell me what you data analysis team has discovered about Punch's transmission. And please, be as brief and as clear as possible."

"Ahem, yes," Perceptor said a bit nervously. He had always been uncomfortable in this sort of situation, since he was not a strong public speaker. Deprived of his lengthy vocabulary, he felt unsure of himself. "Well, you see, uh, we have analyzed the schematics of the battleship, and our findings have been most discouraging. The ship is surrounded by powerful energy shields. They have been specially polarized to nullify energy weapons and to absorb their energy, making their defenses even stronger. The material of the ship itself is quite similar to that used in the construction of Metroplex. Nothing short of a nuclear weapon will even scratch it from the outside. However, the plasma that powers it can be ignited and used to explode the ship from within."

Optimus frowned; he didn't like that last part at all. "Thank you, Perceptor," he said briskly. "And what about your team, Kup? Have you found anything that will help us deal with the problems that Perceptor noted?"

Kup's gravelly voice echoed in the still room, where not a soul moved. They seemed fearful that even their pulsing fuel pumps would disturb the silence. "Unfortunately, Prime, this one is gonna be a tough nut to crack. Damn thing's better armored than the blasted Titonites' crafts are, and they've been working on the technology for longer than I've been alive. There's no way a direct assault will be viable. We'd just be giving them an opportunity to exercise their weaponry. We'd be slaughtered."

Loud and somewhat panicked murmurs interrupted his somewhat negative prognosis. Optimus pounded on the table but without success. "Silence!" he finally roared. The room instantly became as quiet as a tomb, Prime's command still reverberating off the walls. "That's better," he said, trying to keep calm himself. "Please continue, Kup. It's obvious that a direct attack is not the best strategy. What are our other options?"

Kup glanced over his notes briefly, then nodded. "Punch understood our disadvantage well. He was a damned good operative. A good friend, too." This was greeted with murmurs of assent. "He planned his moves very well, since he knew he would not be getting of that ship alive. He sacrificed himself to give all of us a chance."

"What exactly did he provide us with?" Optimus said hastily, not wanting to stir up feelings of vengeance.

"Oh, yes. He knew that we wouldn't have a chance in the inferno if we couldn't get past those shields. Most of them run on a rotating frequency and have multiple layers, so there's no hope of learning the code to deactivate them, and if we succeeded in knocking one out, there'd still be many others in place. However, the shields affect the short-range efficiency of the ship's scanners. Punch sent us the schedule of supply ships as well as the schematics of the battleship itself. If we sent out a one-man cruiser, it could hide in the shadow of one of the supply ships and gain access that way. Once aboard, though, he'd have to move quick: security is tight and very alert."

Optimus frowned. He didn't like the idea of sending a single operative in alone, but that might be the only viable option left. "What would our operative do once he's aboard?"

Kup replied, "A disguise would be best, for although the Decepticons will discover the intruder's ship quickly, they won't know exactly who they're looking for. Once he's aboard, it's up to him to stay out of the way of the guard patrols as much as possible. He must head to the plasma chamber that feeds the engines and shut down the ventilation system. The engines will overheat and destroy the ship in a matter of minutes. Unfortunately, this will alert the Decepticons to exactly where our man is, for the main computer, which is too heavily protected to knock out, will sound the alarm for this particular sector. They might be too busy with the evacuation procedure to search for the saboteur, but there's no guarantee that he will be able to escape. His craft will have been disabled, and the escape ships are equipped with sophisticated security seals."

Optimus stared him square in the optics, wanting to confirm the severity of the operation. "In other words, it's a suicide mission," he said flatly.

Kup stared back unflinchingly. "Yes, that's exactly what it is. This mission's so hairy it's shedding. The chances are virtually nil that whoever goes will ever return, if they manage to get the job done in the first place before being captured. One more crucial item, Prime. We're only going to get one shot at this. The Decepticons placed a priority on long-range scanners, expecting a frontal assault, which is why their short-range scanners are vulnerable. Once they figure out where we plan to strike, they'll make those scanners their highest priority. Once they tighten up this gap, we can kiss our chances of survival as a race goodbye."

"Thank you, Kup," Optimus said gravely. "You've given us much to consider. I find the concept of a suicide mission to be unpalatable, but you are indeed right, this may be the only chance we have. Our window of opportunity is already shrinking. The problem is, who will go on such a mission? I refuse to order anyone to lay down their lives for such a dangerous mission."

Kup nodded, faded optics glowing a bit more brightly. "I'll be the first to volunteer, Prime. I don't know if I'd be the best candidate for the job, but I won't sit here and send someone else off to die for me. Too many have died already."

"Amen to that," Optimus murmured, looking around at the assembled faces of those he'd sworn to protect. "I don't want any of you to feel pressured to volunteer. I will accept volunteer notices and dossiers through e-mail only, and later tonight I will inform the individual of my decision. However, there will be special skills that I must look for when I make my selection. Kup, can you tell me what I should look for in a potential candidate?" Optimus knew his words sounded a little cold, but he had to deal with this as a leadership decision like any other.

"The person that we are looking for must be very good at stealth and hit-and-run missions. He must be slight of build and know how to blend in with the scenery. He must also be able to understand the schematics that we will provide. He should be unobtrusive and slight of build. Above all, he must be willing to give this mission everything he's got, for there won't be a second chance."

Jazz said sadly, "Goldbug would have been perfect for the job."

An aching sadness crossed Prime's face, at least the part that was visible. "He's already lost his life in our cause." Those at the table bowed their heads slightly in sadness. Bumblebee had always been a bit annoying in his attempts to fit in, but he had sobered up and grown a lot as Goldbug. And Hot Rod's fate had only made it worse...

Optimus shook himself briskly. There was no sense wallowing in the failures of the past; he had to concentrate on the slim chance that they'd been given. "We will always remember the fallen that gave their lives for us. Unfortunately, someone among us will have to make that sacrifice again. I beg all of you to consider very carefully what this means and if you truly can commit yourselves to this task. Tonight is the deadline for volunteer applications. Dismissed." He watched his followers file out with a heavy heart.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

As the night wore on, the list grew longer and longer. Unfortunately, it was the list of rejections. Optimus was touched by the number of his followers that would lay down their lives for the Autobot cause, but some of the applications were ridiculous. Blurr was certainly fast, but what this job required was subtlety, which was not his strong suit. Wheelie had volunteered as well, probably as an effort to feel more grown up and respected, but compared to the others he was still relatively immature. His annoying characteristics had worn away over the years, and giving up the obnoxious rhyming had gone a long way towards winning the acceptance of others. However, some of the older veterans still couldn't handle his unendingly cheerful enthusiasm. Prime had to confess that the young robot grated against his nerves at times. The possibilities list was of an acceptable length, but the candidates list was absolutely empty. The blank spot glared out at him accusingly, waiting to be filled with the name of the next Autobot to give his life to the cause.

Optimus sat before the silently efficient computer, the bluish light casting an eerie glow over his polished battle mask. At the top of the screen he kept a menu divided into three sections: rejections, possibilities, and candidates. He hated this method, treating the lives of his soldiers as if they were pawns in a chess game, but this was what his position required of him, this was what his followers asked of him, and this was what he must do. He had a responsibility to each soldier under his command, but he also had a responsibility to the army as a whole, and in this case the old clichИ applied: the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few.

His thoughts wandered as his actions became automatic, opening files and glancing briefly at the contents before moving it to one of the three sections. His mind towards, as it so often did these days, to the planet Earth, and how its destruction wounded him. So many had died, countless numbers of humans and hundreds of Autobots. Many he had not known at all, but he had been very close with some of the casualties. He linked the task at hand with those that he mourned. Mirage and Hound would have been excellent choices for such a tricky operation. Hound did not have much of a flair for sabotage, but his holograms had made him a skilled infiltrator. Mirage, however, had been an ideal saboteur. His ability to generate a field of invisibility around him had been highly valued, as well as his extensive knowledge of explosives, as well as the best sites to plant them to cause the most destruction. Optimus Prime had occasionally been accused of being too compassionate, and he would be the first to admit it. When the two had come before him begging to be transferred to Earth, he didn't have the heart to refuse, despite his desperate need of their skills and know-how. He had seen the expression in their optics, the disgust at killing and the weariness of fighting an endless war. Optimus himself had often felt like that, as many of his officers also did, but he could see in this case that they had reached the breaking point. If they didn't find a way out soon, they would crack. Optimus felt for them and arranged the transfer, not as reinforcements for Autobot City but as neutrals who simply wanted to explore Earth's natural wonders and find some peace. From the reports that were beamed to Cybertron as the catastrophic assault of Earth began, Optimus learned that Mirage and Hound had taken up arms once again to defend the planet that was now their home.

He was startled out of his reverie as the last file appeared on the screen. It was the name that he prayed he wouldn't come to, the one that he had hoped to spare from this madness. He had placed the file at the end of his list, praying, perhaps somewhat selfishly, that he would find someone more suited to the task. He quickly closed the file, not allowing his optics to rest on the name, and opened the list of possibilities. Kup was certainly a good security chief and knew plenty about search-and-destroy missions, but even though he tried to hide it, his age had begun to slow him down a bit. He had suffered several inexplicable malfunctions in the past month, which were minor in themselves but could spell disaster during a touchy mission such as this. Optimus wasn't about to leave it up to chance.

All too soon he came to the end of the list with no clear choice. Reluctantly he opened the remaining file and scanned its contents. It was as he feared. Alita was everything he was looking for- in a lover, in a mate, in a companion, and tragically in a saboteur. She was not an outstanding pilot, but that part of the mission required no special skill other than staying close to the transport ship. Her years underground had taught her the fine points of evading capture, and her hit-and-run strikes for energon had honed her abilities and taught her how to manipulate the enemy's equipment. She was quite simply the best choice.

"No!" he yelled, the cry of defiance echoing through his quarters. "She's been through too much already! How can I just sacrifice the woman I love? I've let her down before, and my job has always been a barricade in our relationship, but we've managed to work through it. I can't possibly hurt her in this way."

He reached out to hit the delete key when his hand froze. The image of Punch standing in front of Galvatron's fusion cannon was branded into his memory. Punch had risked his own life to send the Autobots the information he had gained. "How can I answer his sacrifice with another?" he argued with himself, but his rational side was all too ready to answer. If he didn't send Alita, the entire Autobot population would die. It was as simple as that. Perhaps not today or tomorrow, but someday soon. He was so sick of sending off his friends to die in the Autobot name, but Punch had bought them all a chance with his own life, and if Optimus didn't honor his sacrifice it would have all been for nothing.

Optimus balled up his feelings and shoved them behind a mental wall as he began typing out the instructions to Alita on her mission. His hand trembled as he clicked on the "send" command. "May Primus forgive me," he murmured, covering his optics. "For I know I never will."


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

"Damn him," Chromia cursed under her vocal unit as she surveyed her friend intently. Alita was surrounded by a flurry of movement, dealing calmly with last-minute advice and fine-tuning in her orders, but Chromia caught her sidelong glances directed at the doorway. "The bastard has the nerve to send her off on the most dangerous mission since the Ark's flight four million years ago, and he doesn't have the balls to even say goodbye."

Alita turned to her friend, hearing the comment despite the organized chaos around her. "Don't be too harsh on him, Chromia. This decision must have been very hard for him to make. I've seen him on his guilt trips before, and I'm sure this is no different. I understand his reasons for choosing me, and I don't blame him." A wistful note crept into her voice. "Still, I wish he'd come to say goodbye."

Chromia didn't look very convinced. Alita had turned up at her door the night before, asking to spend the night. She had received the curt, brusque notice from Optimus regarding her assignment and understood the mental pressure he was under. She wanted desperately to go to him, reassure him and in turn be enveloped by his comforting arms one last time, but she knew that it would be the wrong thing to do. Optimus had made his decision, and he would be trying to cope with it on his own. The sight of her would smother him with guilt, and he wouldn't be able to think objectively. He needed to distance himself from their personal relationship in order to fulfill his duties. Still, a part of her felt stung, not by his choosing her to go, but by his shutting her out of his mind and heart before she'd even left. She craved a goodbye embrace, a kiss, even a last look from her beloved before she placed her life in Fate's hands. But above all she was a leader as well and would perform her duties with dignity.

"Everything's ready to go," Chromia observed as the shuttle crew gave a thumbs-up sign. "I guess Romeo really isn't going to show."

Alita turned to her friend, trying to be strong but suddenly feeling very afraid and alone. Chromia clasped her hands tightly in her own, squeezing forcefully, as if trying to press her own strength into the metal flesh. Alita gave her a relieved look. "I'll miss you, Chromie. You've been such a good friend to me."

Chromia tried to keep her composure, but there was a detectable waver in her vocal unit. "It was nothing," she said gruffly. "You just go out there and knock 'em dead for me, girl. I know you can do it." She spontaneously hugged her friend, and Alita hugged back fiercely. The two broke apart, choked up with emotion. Alita turned to board the ship, shoulders slumped. He hadn't come. Despite the fact that she had braced herself for it, she still felt cheated.

Chromia's hand on her shoulder stopped her. "I don't believe it! He's here!" she whispered excitedly. Alita turned slowly, scarcely daring to hope.

Optimus stood gaping at his mate, scarcely daring to believe his optics. He had known that some sort of camouflage would be necessary to change her appearance, but he hadn't been prepared for the change. Her usual pink color had been changed to a violet purple, very similar to that of the highest-ranking Decepticons at the moment, Cyclonus and Galvatron. Not only was it a good choice, since the Decepticons probably had an instinctive respect for that color by now, but it suited her feminine form very well. Her weaponry had been obviously upgraded, with twin blasters anchored to her forearms. The changes gave her a more alluring and dangerous edge, something that a part of Optimus that had nothing to do with leadership quite appreciated. But, as his optics met with hers, he realized that nothing inside had changed. She was doing her best to be strong, to succeed for the sake of everyone she loved, but there was a deeply-hidden fear of failure, and a need to be comforted and reassured.

"I thought you weren't coming," she said softly, the words sounding somewhat accusing despite herself. Chromia slipped away silently, trying to give the couple privacy. The security personnel and shuttle maintenance crew suddenly found something to busy themselves with, their positions requiring them to stay on site until their operative was dispatched, but sensing the private nature of the moment.

Optimus hung his head, unable to meet her optics. "I almost didn't," he said softly. "It went against everything my rational judgment told me, and I knew it would make our parting all the more difficult, but I just couldn't bear to stay away."

The whine of the shuttle engines cut into the intimate moment, alerting the couple to just how little time they had left. "I also came to give you this," Prime continued, holding out a sealed packet. "It is not to be opened until you have cleared Cybertron's gravity and out of short-distance communicator contact."

Alita was unable to hide her crushing disappointment. He had only come to give her last-minute orders, nothing more. Still, at least he had found the courage to deliver it by hand and not trusting it to some lackey. She took the packet with numb fingers. Their confrontation was becoming too painful to bear. Once again, Optimus was directing his gaze elsewhere. She turned to go with a heavy heart, whispering a farewell. "Goodbye, Optimus."

Optimus watched the figure of the greatest love he had ever known retreat, heading towards the shuttle that would take her out of his life forever. Suddenly the ice that had surrounded his demeanor, steeling him against his own feelings, shattered. "Alita, wait!" he cried, rushing after her. He just couldn't let things end this way.

Alita turned, surprised at the urgency in her mate's voice. Optimus ripped off his battle mask, swept her up into a powerful embrace, and kissed her with all of his might. Her knees weakened and she wrapped her arms around his waist for support, fingers barely keeping hold of the packet as she kissed him back fiercely, feeling his body tremble with emotion. For a moment time seemed to stop as they held each other, communicating their feelings without saying a word.

At last Alita pulled away, no longer able to hide the tears that spilled from her optics. Optimus brushed them away with the back of his hand, looking dangerously close to tears as well. "Go," he choked, turning his face away. "I don't want you to see me this way." Alita hesitated, wanting to comfort him. She had never seen him so upset before. She understood the pride that he cherished, and he would somehow feel humiliated if she saw him break down, but she wanted to be there for him when he needed her the most. But she also knew that she was the cause of his pain, and lingering would only make it worse. "I love you," she whispered softly, squeezing his hand in farewell before turning and heading into the shuttle, doors swinging closed behind her with deadly finality.

"I love you too," Optimus whispered, despite the fact that she could no longer hear him. His words were drowned out by the roar of the shuttle's engines as they fired, propelling the small craft into the air and towards its destiny.

He turned to see the multitude of personnel standing around, all carefully not looking at him. The battle mask was like a lead weight in his hands. 'They blame me for this,' he thought. 'What they must think of me!'

"It's all my fault," he whispered almost inaudibly. He lifted his exposed face and gazed at his followers sadly. "I'm so sorry. For everything," he choked and rushed out of the room.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Alita gazed at the viewscreen, watching her home recede into the distance. She twisted her hands in her lap, trying to regain control over her rampaging emotions. She had to be strong now and calm herself for the task ahead. She couldn't allow any emotion to cloud her judgment. When she felt that she had regained control, she decided to prepare herself for her mission. She turned and picked up the packet beside her, eager to immerse herself in last-minute details. She frowned at the paper she withdrew. This wasn't the standard last-minute briefing- the format was completely different. What could it be?

She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she read the message before her. "Oh, Optimus," she choked, her optics widening at her lover's final words to her.

_My Dearest Love,_

I have so many things to beg your pardon for. I cannot hope that you will even read this to its conclusion, since it is I that have sent you off like a Terran lamb to the slaughter, but somehow I feel that you will not deny me this last time to voice my sentiments. You know very well that I dislike such letters as these, for they always come out saccharine and overblown, but every word that I write here is the truth. My cerebral processor tells me that my decision to send you away was correct, but my soul is screaming inside at the loss. You were with me from the start, helping me deal with my new responsibilities and understanding when I needed someone to hold my hand. You deserved so much better than what I was able to provide, a lover who had very little time to devote to you and always put his work first. I could tell that it hurt you, but you refused to let me see how much. And now this is the final blow, sacrificing you for the good of the others, those who always stood between us. All I can to is say I'm sorry, and that I will bear this burden for a very long time. I know that these words come too late, and perhaps it is more a purging of my soul than a last goodbye, but I can't leave this unsaid. Our relationship was doomed right from the moment of our rebirth, and yet I couldn't let go of what we had. I would like awake at night gazing at you, wondering how I could ever find the strength to say goodbye. I knew I couldn't be there for you when you needed me, and that I was only singling you out as a target for our enemies. But every time I'd open my mouth, I'd fall in love all over again. Many times I felt as if I were taking advantage of you, leaning on you when I needed moral support yet never there when you felt lonely. I should have let you go to seek your own happiness, to find someone who was truly worthy of you, but I held onto you desperately, like a priceless jewel too valuable to be exhibited freely. You committed to me for all of those millions of years, but I could never fully acknowledge our relationship together. We were both so sure that the war would end soon. I look back on that innocent hopefulness now with incredulity. All our enthusiastic plans eventually decayed and were scattered to the dark corners of our minds. I swore time and time again that we would be united when this nightmare ended. Now I find it is just beginning, but I can't let you go out of my life without making good on my promise. I will never know if you accept or not, but I will always be hoping. I will wear my bonding bracelet for the rest of my days, letting it be a reminder of all that I loved and lost. We may never have gotten a chance to bond officially, but we will always be united in my heart.

Goodbye, my most precious love. I will never forget you.

Orion 

Alita choked back a sob as droplets of cleansing fluid streamed down her face, dampening the paper. "Such a romantic old fool," she sighed. The letter did get a bit syrupy at times, but that was just the way he was. Underneath his no-nonsense exterior beat the fuel pump of a hopeless romantic. For once he had been able to expose his feelings completely without fear of letting his position get in the way, even though the irony of it was that that was the reason why she was here. She reached into the packet and withdrew a polished bonding bracelet, woven out of red, white, and blue strands of metal. Her trembling lips formed a radiant smile as she slipped the bracelet over her delicate wrist, relishing its weight. She was determined now to beat the odds, to perform her task and escape to return to her newly bonded partner.

"So much has been cheated from us already. I won't let it happen again!" she vowed. "I will come back to you, Optimus!"


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Magnus paced back and forth nervously in front of the door to Optimus Prime's living quarters. He had been out here for nearly half an hour, wearing a path in the floor while debating whether or not to disturb his leader. After the departure of the shuttle, Optimus had retreated to his quarters and not a peep had been heard of him since. Several days now had passed, and the others were becoming uneasy. They understood Prime's emotional reaction all too well and did not begrudge him the time alone, but such a prolonged silence was worrying. Optimus was never one to be open with his feelings, but even in times of great personal hardship he had been at the head of things, burying his emotions behind a thick mental wall. He had always put the Autobot army first, and now his followers didn't know what to do in his absence.

Many of them were worried about their future and wanted to be reassured, but with the absence of their paragon of strength, the living legend, their anxiety grew. Ultra Magnus had done all he could to reassure them, but he knew that his words did not hold the weight as the charismatic Optimus. Once again he hesitated, hand poised above the chime, wondering if he should even be here. The same reasons both for and against his presence rushed through his mind. Finally, before he came to an impasse again and starting his pacing, his finger reached out and pressed the door chime.

Magnus jumped back as if he'd been burned. He considered briefly running off down the hall and leaving Prime to his private mourning. Then, to his great astonishment, the doors soundlessly slid open. Mentally bracing himself, he stepped inside, jumping again when the doors closed behind him.

He squinted into the dark room as his optics quickly adjusted to the somber lighting, a dramatic contrast to the brightly lit hallway. His friend sat morosely on the recharge bed, head bent, wrapped up in his own thoughts. If it hadn't been for the doors opening, which had to be authorized from inside as a security precaution for the Autobot leader, he would have been positive that Optimus was oblivious to his presence. All the same, he made a sort of coughing noise to announce himself.

Very slowly, not startled at all by the noise, Optimus raised his head and turned to look at the invader. Magnus had to hold onto himself tightly to keep from crying out. He took an involuntary step back, profoundly shocked by what he saw before him. Prime's battle mask, which Magnus had always assumed to be a natural part of his face, was abandoned carelessly at the foot of the berth. The expression on his friend's face was heartbreaking. His cheeks were dry but wore telltale streaks, giving away more than he would ever voice. But it was his optics that were the most frightening, almost indigo and full of mute despair. The dullness betrayed his lack of recharge.

Magnus struggled to find his voice. "Optimus, I--"

"Don't bother," he said, and Magnus winced at the rough, hoarse quality of the voice; "I already know what you're going to say."

Magnus ignored that statement. "It's not your fault, you know," he said softly.

Optimus laughed humorlessly. "Don't patronize me, Magnus. She was my mate. I should have found a way to save her. She deserved better."

"Maybe she did, but sitting here in the dark won't help it. She's giving her life for us, and we've got to be ready to act!"

Optimus jumped to his feet with a speed that overcame his fatigue and misery. "Do you have any idea how sick I am of hearing that!" he cried. "Magnus, I have seen so many noble acts and sacrifices in my time, and do you know what they've accomplished? Nothing!! We're even worse off than we were before we left Cybertron. At least then other planets weren't involved. At least then I didn't have the lives of thousands of other worlds on my conscience as well as those in my army." The energy seemed to drain out of him, and he slumped back onto the bed wearily. "Nobody else should have to die, Magnus. There's been too much killing already. The entire human race was wiped out in one stroke to further Galvatron's mad plans for conquest. There have been so many good people that I've seen suffer and die, giving their lives for a cause that I lose faith in day after day."

"Like Hot Rod?" Magnus prodded.

"Like Hot Rod," Prime echoed, shoulders slumping even more. "He had so much ahead of him, Magnus. He really had the power to make a difference. He did so much in just a few years, helping form the EDC and hosting peace talks with other species. It took me millennia to strengthen our army, and in all the time that I've been leader my focus has been solely on winning this war. Rodimus had vision. He earned the humans' trust easily, made them equal partners, while I'd been struggling for their acceptance ever since our crash. It was phenomenal." His voice became self-accusing. "And then I came back to life."

Magnus approached cautiously and perched himself on the edge of the berth next to his friend. "Don't blame yourself for that. Rodimus was delighted to have you back."

Optimus sighed in exasperation. "Of course he was. It meant that he could surrender his new responsibilities and fade back into the ranks, returning to his irreverent, carefree persona. He didn't feel comfortable with the mantle of leadership, but all it needed was some time. I tried to reason with him, get him to keep his rank, but all of my pleas fell on deaf audios. He was so sure that he was unworthy that he wouldn't even take a moment to consider my words. He refused to believe that he was the Chosen One, even after all that he'd been through. He just naturally assumed that I was the one who should be in command. I tried to get him to help me out, but all he would give me were a few tersely-worded reports. I had no idea what I was dealing with, Magnus. I had no connections with those that he called our allies and new nothing of our new enemy. I felt like a fool during meetings with alien beings who had spent years working with Rodimus and now were faced with someone who knew nothing of their efforts. I had to learn to deal with these adaptations without fully understanding the mind that had put them together. Worse of all, I didn't know how to deal with Galvatron. I know that he was criticized my many for not simply eliminating such an obviously weak and flawed enemy, but I knew better. Galvatron was nothing like Megatron, he was ten times more dangerous. Megatron could at least be reasoned with, and he did have his own sense of honor. All that Galvatron was after was glory, and he didn't care what price it came at. Rodimus was juggling a time bomb, doing his best to defuse it. And suddenly I found myself jerked back into the world of the living to find that everything I had been familiar with had changed."

Magnus nodded wordlessly, not wanting to stop the flow of words. Optimus had always been very closed-mouthed with regard to his personal feelings, but now he seemed to feel the need to purge himself and get his thoughts out in the open. It was almost as if he had forgotten Magnus was there. "I suppose in a way it was my own fault for letting him go. I could see that the transition, his return to normal life, was not easy. A part of him must have been whispering that it wasn't right, that something was missing, and he must have blocked it out with all his strength. I'm not quite sure why, but he seemed to feel guilty about taking my place and saw my return as a chance to put things right. I know that I should have tried harder to make him see reason, but like many other things that should have gotten done in my personal life, I lacked the time. I was so busy trying to adjust to all the changes that I let opportunities slip by to talk to him, and of course, as time passed he found it easier to pretend that nothing had ever changed, that he had ever been more than a wise-cracking gun-toting kid. And I wasn't ready to accept it at the time, but a part of me was envious of that."

"Envious? Why?" Magnus asked, his curiosity overwhelming him and causing him to shatter the moment.

Optimus looked up, startled. He'd forgotten that Magnus was there. Looking rather ashamed, he forced himself to continue. It was time to own up to his darker feelings. "I envied him the opportunity to return to his former life, to have close friends again, to go out racing whenever the mood suited him, to not have to be shadowed by a bodyguard during times of great danger. And, of course, the ability to have a romantic relationship without worrying that his girlfriend would end up dead the next day or maybe just dump him for being married to his job. Sometimes I would watch him and feel a great pity, for it was obvious that things could never be exactly the same. Other times I would feel a poison rise up in me, a blind, selfish emotion of burning envy. He had gotten a second chance and regained everything that had been lost to me. I was not jealous of him, Magnus. I did not want to rob him of the small scraps of happiness that remained from his former life. I just wondered why I couldn't have the same."

Magnus regarded him mutely. He didn't know what to say. He had no idea that Optimus had felt this way. There were so many things about his friend that he didn't know. After all these millions of years, he was still an enigma. However, right before his eyes, some of the pieces were falling together. "Still, his death was not your fault," he insisted. "There was nothing that could have been done to stop him."

"I know," Optimus said softly. "And that, in a way, is my fault too. It was just a simple, routine spy mission. There was absolutely no reason for Goldbug to get caught. If I had realized that security had been beefed up in that sector, I never would have sent him in alone. You remember this, Magnus. You were there when we received the ransom message from Galvatron about his new hostage. Unfortunately, Hot Rod was there too. He knew the stakes better than anyone. Megatron could be bargained with, but Galvatron was just too unstable. No matter what we could have given him, he would have killed Goldbug anyway, just for the joy of killing. He looked at me, and in that moment, when our gazes locked, we were peers. He could see my dilemma plainly. I couldn't give in to Galvatron's demands, but I also couldn't leave Goldbug to die. Hot Rod took the decision out of my hands. That was why he disobeyed the orders that confined all non-essential personnel to base and went to save Goldbug. He knew that I couldn't order a rescue and took the decision out of my hands. He was a true leader, Magnus, even without the Matrix. But the Decepticon base was just too tough a nut for him to crack alone, and he fell into the same trap that Goldbug did. I wouldn't allow you or anyone else watch the transmission, but I could not permit myself to look away as Goldbug and Hot Rod were executed. Their deaths were on my conscience, and I could not blind myself to it. Hot Rod was brave until the last. I could tell by the expression in his optics that he didn't want me to accept blame for his actions, but how could I not? I will feel the burden of it always."

Optimus suddenly pierced his friend with a direct gaze full of emotion. "You know, I never thanked you, Magnus."

Magnus looked confused. "Thanked me? For what?"

"For being there for Roddy. For supporting him, for building up his confidence, for teaching him to believe in himself. I can only imagine what it must have been like for him, suddenly thrust into the spotlight without a single clue what to do or who to turn to. At least I had Alita and Alpha Trion to help me through the worst of it. By Primus, he must have felt so defenseless. But you hung in there with him and kept him going. I can't tell you what it must have meant to him."

Magnus shook his head in refusal. "Believe me, Prime, it was nothing out of the ordinary. He was a gifted leader, he just needed the confidence to see it. Experience would have taken care of that in time, but first he needed people to believe in him. It was crushing to him to be referred to as a young, unruly punk by those who he craved respect and acceptance from. He always seemed to take Kup's harsh criticisms good-naturedly, but I could see how deeply the words cut. It took a while, but finally the others began to adjust to Roddy's more fiery disposition and see that it wasn't borne out of immaturity. He had what it takes, Prime, and he accomplished some great things."

A brief, miniscule smile flitted across the weary leader's face. "I know, Magnus. You're preaching to the choir here. I know it sounds like a human clich? but his death nearly broke my heart. Despite all his denials, I could tell that Hot Rod was every inch a leader underneath. I held onto the hope that perhaps someday, once he'd had a little more time to mature at his own speed, he'd realize his destiny and allow me to train him properly as my prot?? Sometimes I would see him lingering around my office, but whenever I greeted him he'd hurry off. He was our future, Magnus, and I had quite a bit of trouble coping with his loss. I also felt very unsettled, since I now was left without a clear successor. Such a problem had never bothered me before my death, since I had always assumed that we'd find a way to win the war. Now I see that I must not leave such a large decision to chance."

Optimus then fell silent. As the silence began to stretch out into several minutes, Mangus began to worry, but forced himself to not fidget or speak. If he had been human, he would have held his breath during such a delicate moment. He could practically hear the thoughts of his friend whirring in his cerebral cortex, and it would be his decision whether he wanted to share them or not. In all the millions of years that they'd known each other, Optimus had rarely confided in him, much less to the extent that he was today. Perhaps he felt that he had already said too much, or felt rather vulnerable after bearing his innermost thoughts, or perhaps he wanted to come clean, to cleanse his soul of whatever dark demons had haunted him for so long.

"She was my first, you know," Optimus spoke so softly that Magnus would have missed it had his sensors not been on full.

Magnus shifted uneasily, not sure where this was going but sensing that his friend expected a response. "Your first true love?"

"Oh yes," Optimus laughed, but it was a sharp and abrupt sound, more bitter than amused. "She was my first everything- well, almost. She was the first female to really capture my attention, and she never let it go, not even after all this time. She was my first lover, too. She taught me some unbelievable things about myself. I had never believed such pleasure between two people was possible. For the first time I truly understood what it meant to feel like a man. I couldn't get enough of her for quite some time."

Magnus had no idea how to respond to this, so he simply nodded, hoping that is discomfiture wasn't too obvious. This wasn't anything that he should be hearing. Normally Optimus was so closed-mouthed on the subject of his personal life that not even wildebeests could drag anything out of him. It had taken him many years, and a very determined Alita One, to make him publicly confirm the seriousness of their relationship.

Suddenly Optimus gave a soft moan and buried his head in his hands. "I can't believe I've lost her. She was everything to me, Magnus. We had so little private time together, and every time she lay peacefully in my arms, deep in recharge, I swore to myself that I'd never let her out of my sight again. I know that sounds a little extreme, but being away from her for weeks on end hurt so much. And then when we crash-landed on Earth I couldn't truly bring myself to believe that she was dead, not in my heart. When we were reunited for that preciously short amount of time I thought I would burst with happiness. I would have even kissed Megatron, for in a way it was him that reunited us. But when it came time for us to part company I could barely walk into the shuttle, the grief was so overwhelming. Through everything, every crisis, she stood by me and gave me the mental support I needed. Somehow our relationship held together, even when we realized we could never truly be united and both began to have affairs. Eventually we would always return to each other, our love stronger than ever. I know that she felt abandoned sometimes, and that it was selfish for me to hold onto her when I could never give her the full attention she deserved, but I just couldn't bear the idea of saying goodbye and letting her out of my life. Of course all of that's moot now. I'll never hear her laugh again, never see that mischievous glint in her optics when she'd thought up a new prank to pull on me, never lay next to her and hold her in my arms as she recharges, feeling like the happiest mechanism that ever lived." His voice trembled slightly at the last word, and his fists clenched tightly as he fought back a wave of emotion. Magnus gingerly put a hand on his friend's shoulder, wanting to comfort him but not quite sure how.

Gradually Prime's fists relaxed and he wearily looked up at his friend. "I have something else that I must thank you for, Magnus. You've always been there when I needed you. I'm so glad you're here. You know, I don't always want to be left alone when I feel like this. What an irony- Alita and I are always scrambling to find a few minutes' privacy for ourselves when everything's running smoothly, but the moment a tragedy happens I'm left in solitude with only my troubled thoughts for company. Most times I value the silence, the chance to think and sort things out, but I tend to think too deeply on a subject and only end up feeling worse. Most of the others would respect the closed door and never dare to disturb me from my thoughts, but sometimes I'd like for someone to burst in on me and drag my from my melancholy. Alita was very good at that- she'd nag and scold like a Terran housewife until I'd stopped brooding over my current problem. I'm very grateful to have a friend like you, Magnus."

Magnus fumbled for a reply. "I'm glad to be here for you," he said quite sincerely, rather bowled over by his friend's words, so uncharacteristically vulnerable. He'd had no idea he'd meant so much to Prime. "If you ever need to talk about anything, I'm always willing to listen."

"Thank you, Magnus, you've always been such a good friend to me. That is why I feel so horrible about what I must do."

Magnus was filled with dread. "I don't think I understand."

Optimus lifted the object that had been concealed on his lap, bringing it into view. Magnus gasped sharply as the Matrix shone brightly like a polished jewel despite the dimly lit surroundings. A hundred vivid memories rushed through his mind- Optimus slowly dying in medbay, himself being torn apart by the Sweeps, the exodus from the self-destructing Unicron.

Prime's tone of voice was infinitely sad. "Magnus, I must ask a great favor of you. I can no longer--"

"NO! Please, Optimus, I can't do it!" Magnus jumped off the recharge bed, unable to suppress the cry of shock and horror.

Optimus focused his gaze on the crystalline structure in his hand, not bothering to look at his companion. "Please, Magnus, at least hear me out. I understand how averse you are to the idea of leadership, but right now I have no other choice. I can't continue on like this, Magnus. The feelings of loss and futility are just too overwhelming for me. I need time to recover. Besides, the decision is beyond my control. The Matrix will no longer accept me as its bearer."

Magnus was even more shocked at this news. "It's rejected you?!" he cried incredulously. He couldn't believe it. While he had carried the Matrix he had felt absolutely nothing, neither acceptance nor rejection. He had simply assumed that the Matrix did not react to its bearers, until Hot Rod had been chosen by the device itself and later told Magnus about the experience, about the indescribable sensations that had coursed through him. Even then Magnus knew that he could never completely understand what a link to the Matrix must be like. He knew that he was not meant to be a leader, and in fact had never aspired to be. "But why? Surely it isn't repulsed by your decision to send Alita on the mission. It was the right choice, the only option left to you."

Optimus sighed. "I don't my decision itself is the cause. I've been feeling despair for some time, and I fear that the loss of my mate has pushed things to an irreparable state. A leader must have a special spark within, Magnus, a fire of passion and devotion for those that follow. I fear that my spark has finally died away. I no longer have the spirit necessary to house the Matrix. It knows that it is time to select a new leader."

"But why me?" Magnus protested. He winced at the words, fearing that they carried a petulant and whiny tone.

"Because you are a brave and capable leader." Optimus held up his hand as Magnus began to protest. "I know that you are not destined to be our leader, and I knew it when I first named you Matrix bearer. I had sensed for some time that the young Hot Rod had a special aptitude, despite his youth, but the Autobots were not yet ready to accept him, nor was he ready to accept the burden until he had proved himself. You do not have the spark that is necessary to lead the Autobots, but your expertise as city commander will serve you in good stead. I will not mince words, Magnus- you are my only hope. I no longer have the will to continue as leader. I understand your fears, but you performed excellently before as Autobot leader, and the failures that occurred were not your fault, but were do to the impossible situation of battling Unicron. At least I know that the Autobots will have a capable and level-headed leader if you accept the title. Please, Magnus, I'm begging you. I cannot force you to accept, and if you refuse I don't know what I'll do. I have to get out of all of this for a while. If I don't I fear I will go mad. I just can't take it anymore."

Prime's optics, blazing with intense emotion, seemed to cut through Ultra Magnus, who suddenly felt very ashamed of himself. Despite the praise that his friend had heaped on him moments ago, Magnus knew that he was a rotten friend. He had not come here to comfort his friend and lend a shoulder to cry on, though he would have gladly done so had he realized the necessity of it, he had come to Optimus to persuade him to reassure the troops and assure them that he was still as strong a leader as ever. He had had no idea that Optimus was in such a fragile emotional state, and that his mental state had deteriorated to such an extent. He was barely strong enough to handle his own grief, let alone the pressures of leadership, that had gradually worn him down for so long. Would it really be so bad to take this burden from his friend's shoulders? Their defeat was virtually assured, and even Optimus could not change that, so could he himself really screw up too badly? What the Autobots needed was something to believe in, and Optimus would go a long way towards reassuring them, Magnus could at least make an effort. And no matter what, Optimus deserved a respite from his long-held responsibilities. Magnus could not dispute the Matrix's decision to reject its host. There was nothing else to be done. He would have to accept the position.

Magnus stood up straight and tall, preparing himself once again to receive the dubious honor of the title of Autobot leader. "I will accept the honor of bearing the matrix, Optimus. You have endured too much already."

The look of Prime's incredulous relief pricked at Magnus, making him feel guilty for some reason. He wasn't looking forward to this at all, but Prime's palpable relief convinced him that it was for the best. He held out his hands gingerly, and Optimus reverently placed the Matrix into his grasp. He eased the Matrix into his open chest casing, and as the panels slid shut he waited briefly for a reaction. Nothing happened. As before, the Matrix neither accepted nor rejected him.

For a moment he felt a moment of sheer panic. 'This is crazy! If Optimus has lost his spirit, what hope do I have?' He quickly forced himself to calm down. "I won't let you down, Optimus. I swear I'll make you proud of me."

Optimus smiled wearily. "Of that I have no doubt. I have the utmost confidence in you, Magnus. Now, if you don't mind, I'd prefer to be alone right now. I have a lot to think about."

Magnus turned to the door then suddenly stopped himself, forcibly breaking his habit of obeying Prime's orders. "Are you sure, Optimus? This might not be a good time to be alone. Are you sure you're going to be all right?"

Optimus shook his head. "Of course not. I don't think I'm going to be all right for a long time. But I do know what you mean. You know me far too well."

Magnus had a hard time hiding his surprise. His friend had always been an enigma to him, a puzzle with half of the pieces hidden from view.

Optimus continued, "I know that too much time alone brooding might not be the best thing to do, but I would like some time to think. I promise I won't do anything stupid. You have my word."

Magnus nodded solemnly, feeling the heavy burden of leadership resting on his shoulders. "I'll leave you in peace then, but if you ever need anything, someone to talk to, you know where to find me."

Optimus nodded. "Thank you. You've really helped me a lot."

"Take care of yourself, Optimus," Magnus murmured as the doors slid closed behind him.

"You too, old friend," Optimus replied softly, then he was enveloped by silence, left alone with his ghosts.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Alita released a nearly inaudible sigh of relief as she forced her hands to unclench and release the steering controls. She had survived the first test, flying innocuously past the Decepticon battleship's finely tuned long-range sensors. The entire time she had felt a pricking sensation at her neck, as if the crosshairs of a weapon were pointed directly at her back. Fortunately someone with restraint must have been in charge at the time, most likely Cyclonus, to keep the less-controlled foot soldiers in line and discourage random pot-shots at passing ships, for the reason that it might attract unwanted attention as well as waste valuable ammunition. She had had quite a hard time keeping herself from jamming on the thrusters and speeding away as her instincts screamed to do, but that would only serve to call attention to herself and get her nicely killed. Not that her chances of survival were really all that likely, but she preferred an honorable death. Her rational mind told her that the asteroid she was behind at the moment hid the ship quite well, and that the Cons' short-range sensors weren't powerful enough to find it unless they purposely searched, but she felt horribly vulnerable and exposed. At least she wouldn't have to wait for long. The supply ship was due along any minute now. In fact, she could not shake off a deep-seated fear that it had already come and gone, robbing her of camouflage that she'd need to penetrate the battleship. She could always wait for another one to appear, but the stops were far between, and the longer she stayed out in the open, despite her asteroid cover, the higher the stakes rose on her discovery.

She jumped slightly as the supply ship suddenly appeared in the distance on her viewscreen. It was too soon, she just didn't feel ready yet! If only she had a little more time to prepare... "Nonsense!" she yelled aloud, startling herself and giving her the mental boost she needed. "All the time in the world wouldn't be enough to prepare myself to die. My mind's just stalling for time and if I don't hurry, I'll lose my only chance!" With that pep talk of sorts, she took hold of the steering controls and slowly edged her tiny craft out from behind shelter.

She gently nosed her craft forward until it hovered under the wing of the immense but dilapidated cruiser. No doubt it belonged to the Scuzoids, who hoarded their profits instead of using them to improve their ships. All the better for her, since their scanners wouldn't detect her, and the crumbling exterior would confuse the scanners on the Decepticon battleship. Still, one never knew. Alita had seen quite a few energon raids end in catastrophe because of some unforeseen element. Normally she held no beliefs towards the existence of gods, but she was praying with all of her might at this moment, not even bothering to direct it to anyone in particular. She knew that the only thing that would get her through this was her own wit and skills, but still her murmured pleas seemed reassuring.

She pressed her legs together tightly to keep from trembling as the enormous battleship loomed ever closer. An opening slowly hissed open like the giant maw of a huge predator, eager to swallow its helpless prey. Alita shook her head to chase away the frightening mental picture and adjusted her speed to compensate for the slowing craft above. It wouldn't look very good for her to shoot out from her cover, practically begging to be shot at.

The Scuzoid pilot must had already given a clearance code, for the ship encountered no opposition upon its entry. Alita experienced a few moments of sheer terror as she nosed the ship in, fearing that the behemoth above her would shift abruptly and land on her, but it remained on course as it slid into the docking bay with surprising gracefulness. Alita landed behind it, being careful to keep out of sight of the 'Cons waiting to unload the shipment. As soon as she heard the cargo ship doors open she stepped out of her own small craft. She'd have to move quickly, for a stray worker could circle around the cargo ship and find her own. Despite the fact that it bore no markings at all, Autobot or otherwise, the Decepticons would sound an alarm. Fuel pump pounding, she edged around the massive craft and peered around. A steady stream of drones circled the craft, unloading the new supplies and carrying them out of the shuttlebay to various parts of the battleship. Drones weren't too bright and luckily were programmed to accept anyone that bore the Decepticon insignia. This was a stroke of luck, but someone had to have authorized the docking of the supply craft and would no doubt arrive shortly to oversee the delivery. She cut ahead of the drones, grabbed a random box, and swiftly exited the shuttle bay. She was in- so far, so good.

She clutched the box to her chest as she forced herself to sedately walk through the corridors, which were not heavily traveled but still contained the occasional passerby. Those that did walk past gave her an odd look, since Decepticon females were rare enough, but they hadn't seen any that ranked high enough to be posted to the new ship. Their curiosity was quickly quashed by her icy glare, for they knew that females also had fiery tempers, and, as several brash and stupid males had found out in the past, staring too hard resulted in rather unpleasant body alterations.

'Well, would you look at that,' Alita thought to herself in amazement as yet another male that passed by gaped, then looked flustered and embarrassed, mumbled an apology and saluted. 'Females may be a rare commodity among the Decepticons, but they've certainly earned respect. I never thought I'd be envious of some 'Con femme. I always assumed that they were treated as fluff, fit only to serve as maids and pleasurebots. Most Autobot males have trouble keeping their optics in their head when a femme passes by. Maybe we should take a cue from our opposition and start teaching a few lessons with our fists!' Alita snickered aloud, the sound echoing down the fortunately deserted hall, startling her and causing her to nearly drop the package. She sobered up instantly, remembering where she was.

She rounded the corner and stopped short in horrified shock. She had downloaded the schematics of the base provided by Punch into her CPU, but they had been based on what the layout would be like once the construction had been completed. It hadn't taken into account any delays, and though the layout in her head insisted that there should be a finished corridor right in front of her, the massive gaping hole in the floor refused to disappear. There was quite simply no floor from one end of the corridor to the other. She frantically searched the schematics for an alternate route, but the only other possibility lay in heading back the way she'd come and then passing by the command center. Perhaps foot soldiers and lower-ranking officers would pay her respect, but the higher-ranking officials would instantly recognize an unknown face and ask unpleasant questions- unless they decided to talk with their fists or guns. She'd taking a gaping hole in the floor over gunfire any day.

She peered closely at the walls, searching for a platform that would allow her to cross. The rim of the wall that jutted out didn't look wide enough to support her. How on Cybertron had they been working on the floor? Then she saw it- a mini hovercraft that would allow the workers to place the metal sheeting without resting their weight on it until the soddering cooled. The hovercraft was quite inconveniently on the other side of the hole. "Aren't going to make things easy for me, are they?" she grumbled to herself. All right, she had come this far and she refused to be stalled. As she had so often lectured to her femmes, there's almost always a solution to any problem if one simply knows where to look.

She scanned the room once again. Nothing. Nothing that would help her get across. Unless... She looked up. Bingo! Thick pipes stretched high overhead neatly traversing the hole and continued to the other side. She mentally reached into her subspace pocket but stopped when she realized she still held the package in her hands. She knelt to put it down, but the label caught her eye. "Flash grenades," she grinned. Perfect for getting out of a tight spot. She ripped the lid off quickly and picked up a grenade, surveying it like a connoisseur. Satisfied that it was free of defects, she hooked it on a small piece of protruding metal on her hip. She wished that she could take the whole box, or at least a few more, but she had to travel lightly. One should suffice, and her blaster had never let her down before.

Alita pulled a grappling hook out of her subspace pocket, attached to a fragile-looking rope. She wound up and threw the rope, which looped around the pipe and hooked on the other side. She jerked the rope to assure its stability, then began to climb up. It was lightweight and easy to transport in a rather subspace pocket but was also very sturdy.

Her hands closed around the pipe and she hoisted herself up, wrapping her legs around it and swinging herself on top. She unfastened the grappling hook and returned it to subspace. She gripped the pipe strongly between her thighs as she began to slide down its length. She tried not to think of the vast emptiness under her as she slowly shuffled along. She wasn't used to this sort of thing at all- she had been a tunnel fighter for so long, used to cramped and enclosed spaces. It had taken a while, with a lot of support from veteran space pilots, until she adjusted to the vast inky blackness of space. At least then she had known that space would not kill her, it was simply its size that intimidated her. But the expanse below her was definitely life-threatening.

She started as a noise came to her audio sensors. It didn't come from the adjoining corridors. No, it sounded a lot closer than that... Suddenly the pipe shifted underneath her and gave an ominous groan. Alita could not suppress a shriek as she clutched the metal frantically. The pipe was never meant to support anyone's weight, not even the lighter female models. She began to crawl faster, the seams of the metal continuing to groan. She risked a quick glance ahead and saw that, while this pipe was slowly separating from the others, the next pipe was firmly cemented in the wall. She had come over two-thirds of the way already. She could make it if only the pipe would hold together...

Her hands struck an oily patch and slipped off, the momentum throwing her body off balance. Her hands scrambled for purchase as she felt her body going over the edge, but the round pipe afforded no handholds. She cried out in panic and despair, fuel pump threatening to smash its way out of its housing, as she slid off her perch. Her thighs instinctively clenched, keeping a death grip on the metal above. Her body jerked, nearly shaking off her hold, but her legs held. Her upper body dangled above the yawning pit, and in spite of herself she got a direct view of the floor fourteen levels below. This route had been selected for her infiltration because it was low-traffic and low-security, but apparently it was such a low priority that the entire section had been left unfinished. A random, crazy thought rushed through her CPU- 'Maybe I should have chanced the command center after all. Death by gunfire would be more honorable and less terrifying.' That struck her as rather funny and she almost began to laugh, but the sound died in her throat as the pipe shifted once more. Rivets popped out one by one, falling silently through open air to land far below.

She craned her head upwards, surveying the pipe. It would fall any minute now, but the next pipe was very close, close enough to grab if she could get her hands around it. Her thighs tensed around the pipe, preparing for the weight shift. She would only have one chance at this, for her movement would jerk the other pipe free. She began to swing back and forth slightly, desperately trying to shut out the groan of metal fatigue as she built up momentum. Suddenly her body bent at the waist, surging up as her arms opened wide to clutch the lifeline above. Her fingers grazed the metal and clenched, the muscle cables tensing as she raised herself higher, giving her the precious seconds she needed to move her hands up and wrap her arms around the pipe. She felt the pipe shift and suddenly begin to fall. Her legs opened up to release it, and it fell like a rock, mercifully missing her by a scant few inches. Alita began to work her arms backwards on the pipe to give herself enough room to hoist her legs up. Once again she swung back and forth, then on the backswing her hips rocketed up and her legs grasped the pipe above. She hung upside-down, trying to stop her trembling. Just then a loud clang rose up from far, far below. She hadn't kept track of the time, but the longer the delay between the fall and the landing indicated the distance, which in this case seemed to be enormous.

Alita squeezed the pipe in her hands, reminding herself that it and she were both still here, but she might not be for long if she didn't get moving before her body gave out. She forced herself to shimmy along the pipe, not daring to try to climb on top but remained suspended below it. She shut down her optics, relying on the steady, repetitive movement to keep her going. "Just a little more, just a little more," she told herself. Her optics powered up quickly when her head bumped against something, and she found herself face-to-face with the wall. Her gaze cautiously dropped, fearfully expecting to see more empty space. She shook her head, but the blessed image remained- solid ground below. It took several minutes to force herself to let go of the pipe to retrieve the grappling hook from subspace. She quickly secured it around the pipe and assured that it was well-placed. Everything was ready for her descent, except her legs, which refused to surrender its grip. "Oh, come on now, this is ridiculous! I can't stay up here all day!" she told herself. After a few more minutes she managed to force her trembling legs to surrender their perch. She had another moment of terror as her body swung free, then her legs clamped down around the rope, and she slowly lowered herself down. The moment her feet touched the ground her legs collapsed, and she curled up in a fetal position, trembling violently. She recalled the faint clang that the pipe had made when it landed on the punishing metal floor far below and shuddered, bringing on another round of trembling. "That could have been me," she choked.

'Get up, you ninny!' an inner voice hissed. Just then an alarm sounded. "Intruder alert! Security personnel to your posts! Secure all sensitive areas!"

Alita groaned; they had most likely discovered her shuttle. Instead of depressing her, though, it spurred her on. She leaned against the wall as she slowly eased herself to her feet, coaxing her wobbly legs to support her. She didn't have too much further to go, but the last few yards would be the most dangerous of all. She would have to cross the Hub, the central area of the ship where the essential corridors of the ship intersected. It would be crowded with robots strolling by, enjoying their free time between shifts, or others bustling off to begin their own work shifts. The crowds would conceal her nicely, but it would also be heavily guarded now that the Decepticons had been alerted to her presence. Despite her new paint job and Decepticon insignia, a female Transformer was bound to attract attention. Still, there was no way around it.

She slunk through a main corridor and hid behind a pillar, peering cautiously into the Hub. The sudden chatter and noise assaulted her senses, reverberating off the metal support structures. The sight astonished her- she was actually seeing the enemy at rest, those that had raged in the midst of battle now relaxing with their friends and perhaps imbibing exotic fuels. It was the exact same scene at Metroplex when war-weary soldiers found a moment of peace, only the faces were different here. Well, the menacing guards standing around with fully charged weapons really weren't part of the Autobot party scene either. No doubt this was a new addition to Decepticon R&R as well, judging from the many curious looks the passersby gave them. "All this for little ol' me? I'm touched," Alita cooed. She could be as coy as she liked, but that still didn't solve the problem of getting past them.

Her optics fell on a lone adolescent Decepticon roaming around the outskirts of the crowd. His Decepticon brand still gleamed with newness, and his optics shone as he gazed reverently at the older warriors. Alita couldn't help suppressing a smile of amusement. He reminded her a bit of how Hot Rod had been at one time. He'd do nicely.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again," she grinned. "There's almost always a solution to any problem if one simply knows where to look." She had to confess that she was going to have fun with this part of the mission.

"There you are," she purred, sidling up to the young mech and putting her arm around his waist. "I've been looking all over for you."

"You -- you have?" the astonished male gaped.

"Oh yes," Alita purred, caressing his helmet and struggling hard not to dissolve into helpless giggles. "Why don't we walk across the Hub together, get to know each other?"

"S≈sure!" the mech stammered, grinning from ear to ear.

"Great! Then let's go." Alita ushered him along, wary of the guards, who had all taken notice of her presence. Most of them had relaxed when she walked off with her friend. "So what's your name? I mean," she said hastily, "I've seen you around but never got to find out what you're called. I just had to get to know you."

The male smiled bashfully, and Alita felt a twinge of guilt. He was very young and no doubt inexperienced. It was funny but also very painful to see his eagerness. She shouldn't be playing with him like this, but still he was just a 'Con and also a very useful pawn. Still, he was too young to be fighting in a never-ending war.

"My name's Sport," he replied. "The other guys kept sayin' I was a good sport, you know, since I'd never let teasing bother me. I know I'll be a great soldier one day, I just need the chance to prove it!"

Alita winced at those words. So many of them, on both sides, had started out as idealistic young robots looking to make their mark and emulate their heroes, but too often they ended up dispirited and trapped. "I'm sure you will, but it's not as great as you think. At least think it over before committing yourself."

In the corner of her optic, Alita saw one of the guards approaching, frowning suspiciously. She quickly turned and kissed the mech deeply, muffling his startled cry with her lips. He was too shocked to return the favor. Alita breathed a mental sigh of relief as the guard turned away, convinced by the display of affection. They had arrived at the corridor that she needed, the one that led down to the engine room. "Gotta go now," she said, feeling rotten at his crestfallen expression. She knew that it was foolish to worrying about a 'Con's hurt feelings, who'd be out there shooting at her soon enough since he was considered important enough to station here, but still his wounded expression stung her. Worse than that, she knew that this place was about to make a very large **bang** quite soon, and she wanted this innocent mech to have a chance to escape. "Tell you what," she said. "Meet me at the shuttle bay in a few breems. I've got to take care of some unfinished business."

Sport's beaming face was almost laughable. "Sure, meet you there!"

Alita strode off, thoughts already turning towards the tricky task ahead. "Wait a minute!"

The cry stopped her in her tracks. She turned around slowly, ready to face the business end of a rifle, but it was only Sport. "You never told me. What's your name?"

"Alita," she told him before she could stop herself. 'That was stupid!' she scolded herself. 'Now they have a way to trace you.' But at least she had been honest about one thing.

Sport smiled dreamily. "That's a real pretty name. See you soon, Alita."

"You too, Sport," she replied, knowing that she would never see him again. But at least he had a chance to survive.

1 


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Alita groaned inwardly when she caught sight of the burly-looking guard stationed outside of the engine room. Guards were never known for their intelligence, and maybe this one could be led on as easily as Sport. "Hi there," she cooed, sidling up to him. "Gosh, you're cute!"

"Ya think so?" the thug asked.

"Suuuure!" Alita gushed, mentally sneering at him. "But my friend thinks you're even cuter!"

"Wow, really? Where is she?"

"She's waiting for you in the Hub. She was too shy to come with me, so she's waiting for you there. Better hurry, though, before she changes her mind."

"Okay!" the guard said eagerly. 'Not the brightest bulb on the tree, is he?' she snickered to herself.

The guard's grin faded when he recalled his duties. "Aw no, I can't leave my post! Cyclonus would have my head!"

'Just great!' Alita groaned. Still, she never let setbacks get in her way. "Oh, thaaat's no problem! I'll guard the place for you!"

"Woud'ya? Thanks!" The guard lumbered off, whistling tunelessly, as Alita snickered at his back. Her mind returned to the task at hand, and she pondered the locking mechanism on the engine room door. Unlike the locks on Decepticon establishments on Cybertron, this one was state-of-the-art and would require hours of effort, time that she obviously didn't have. A tiny screwdriver emerged from her pinky and began to remove the screws around the keypad. A small charge of electricity zapped her hand, and she cried out, more in surprise than in pain. She punched the controls in anger, and the door slid open obligingly. Alita stood gaping at it for a moment, marveling at the connection between her fist and the door, then dashed in as the doors started to close.

She stopped short, floored by the wide expanse of high-tech equipment. Fortunately for her there were no technicians in sight. She could hear the steady thrum of the plasma generators as they powered the mighty engines. The ship was moving slowly at the moment, but it was undoubtedly headed towards Cybertron, as a glance at the charted course confirmed. A dreadful sort of awe filled her as she studied the machines in front of her, registering all kinds of data. This battleship was an incredible creation. But its beauty was cold and brutal, and if she didn't stop it now perhaps it never would be stopped.

She hunted around the numerous consoles for the one that controlled the plasma flow, finally picking it out. She headed over to it and began tapping out commands, all too aware that time was slipping away. Most of the settings looked uninteresting... There it was! vVentilation Controlsv Alita quickly moved the icon to the "close" position. //Disabling the ventilation controls while the plasma engines are in use is not recommended// the computer informed her.

"No slag," she snorted. "Confirm," she said firmly.

//Authorization not provided// the computer replied, almost as if it was daring her to succeed.

"Manual authorization," Alita snapped back, feeling dread rise in her. How was she going to pull this one off? She knew that vocal authorization would not work since the computer was most likely trained to identify voice prints.

She looked around, trying to figure out which terminal in the mass of technology was the right one to use. The blinking screen was a clue. She thought briefly, and a whisper of an idea entered her mind. CYCLONUS, she entered next to the NAME command. PASSWORD appeared next. Alita entered MEGATRON and then crossed her fingers, a habit she'd picked up from Optimus, who'd picked it up from Earth.

//Authorization confirmed, Cyclonus// the computer announced. //Beginning ventilation shutdown.//

"Yesss!" Alita cried, pumping her fist in the air. It worked! Every moment of terror and anxiety during this mission had been worth it.

Her private celebration was interrupted when a blast from a fusion cannon melted the door. Alita gasped and swung around, pressing against the computer terminal behind her as Galvatron and Cyclonus stepped through the door.

"So this is where our saboteur is hiding," Galvatron sneered. "You were right to install those silent alarms, Cyclonus. We've been able to capture him easily." He stopped short when he got a good look at her. "By the inferno, it's a female!" he roared.

"Yes, my lord," Galvatron dutifully confirmed the obvious.

"This will be fun," Galvatron smiled sadistically and advanced upon the intruder. Alita clutched the controls behind her, her mind swimming with fear. Someone as unstable as Galvatron could do anything. "That pretty face will be the first thing to go!" He raised his fusion cannon menacingly.

Cyclonus held up his hand. "My lord, we must leave her vocal unit intact. She will not be able to talk if she is too badly wounded."

Galvatron studied the creature before him curiously. "I don't remember a female like this in our army. I surely wouldn't have forgotten," he leered. "You are right, Cyclonus, there are other ways to have fun with her."

Alita felt nauseous. There had to be some way out of this, even if it was death. She had known all along that she wouldn't be returning from this mission, and the only important thing was to complete it. Her life was secondary.

Cyclonus turned his gaze to the female. "She seems familiar to me too, my lord, but she is no Decepticon that I know of." His fingers scraped at the Decepticon symbol on her chest, which had been welded on and refused to budge. Still, the fact that it was not a true brand was proof enough for him. "I believe she is an Autobot."

"AUTOBOT?!!" Galvatron roared, forcing Cyclonus to take a step back. "She will die at once. Feel the wrath of Galvatron!"

"No, wait! She could be a useful hostage!" Cyclonus exclaimed, knocking the fusion cannon aside as Galvatron pulled the trigger, shattering a console.

Just then the computer sounded an alarm. //Warning! Plasma breech in progress. Ship-wide destruction in 500 astroseconds//

"What is vthatv supposed to mean?" Galvatron screamed, furious at the idea that his ship was doing something it wasn't supposed to.

"No! She must have shut down the ventilation controls, causing the heat to melt down the engines. If the plasma chamber explodes, we'll all be destroyed!"

"So fix it!" Galvatron snarled, always one for quick, direct solutions.

Cyclonus shook his head. "I cannot, my lord. You √ vahemv, the controls have been destroyed. Besides, the meltdown has gone too far to stop it. We must escape."

"Not without killing this worthless female!" Galvatron's revenge would not be denied. Alita shuddered. So this was it then. This was how it was going to end for her. Her hands moved nervously, and one brushed a round object at her side. Even without looking, she recognized the familiar shape of a flare grenade. She quickly lifted it from her hip and pulled the pin, throwing it at Galvatron's feet and shoved past him, heading for the hole that marked where the door once was. The grenade exploded, creating a chemical reaction that resulted in a massive burst of light. The entire room turned a searing white, and even Alita, who anticipated the explosion and covered her optics with her hands, was still dazzled. As the light faded away she stumbled out, her optics quickly recovering as she raced out into the Hub, following the massive crowd to the escape pods. 'At least I don't have to crawl over a pipe this time' she thought in relief. It wouldn't matter if she sauntered past the command center stark naked, for the officers would have deserted their posts, and in the press to escape nobody would notice her anyway.

"RRRRAAAARRGHHH!" Galvatron roared in fury. He had taken the brunt of the light explosion and was now totally blinded. His vision would return soon enough if given time, but then again Galvatron had never been known for his patience. "Where is she? I'll have her head!"

Cyclonus hastened to calm his leader, his vision beginning to clear with only a small amount of static around the edges. "She is gone, my lord. Do not concern yourself with her any more. The ship is self-destructing and we must escape."

Galvatron struck out, and Cyclonus had to duck to avoid the flying fist. "No! She will not escape me! I am Galvatron, leader of the Decepticons! I will not be thwarted!"

Cyclonus tried once again. "My lord, she is trapped here. Her ship has already been found and disabled, and our escape pods are immune to tampering. Her act of sabotage may have robbed us of the strongest battleship in the fleet, but we will escape to fight another day, while her efforts will only bring her death. Do you see?" he begged, trying to will sanity into his leader's addled brain.

His efforts were in vain, for this time Galvatron's punch connected, catching him across the face. The metal split and a trickle of energon emerged. "YAAARGH! I will find her, and I will destroy her with my own two hands! And not even you, Cyclonus, can stop me!"

Cyclonus grew very still as he fingered his wound. The break in the metal was superficial. He had sustained much worse from his leader before, several times blacking out from blows to the head, but for some reason this time it was different. He had been hit, screamed at, and abused one time too many. Galvatron, the leader that he had revered all of these years, whom he had stood by despite massive troop unrest and dissatisfaction, had finally reached the limits of his second-in-command's patience. If he wanted to chase some foolish femme around a self-destructing ship while totally blinded, let him. Cyclonus had finally accepted that Galvatron had reached the point of no return. His madness had many times lent him an edge in battle and made him almost impossible to predict for his enemies, but now it was steering him towards death. And the Matrix help him, Cyclonus wasn't going to fight him any longer.

"Very well, my lord," he sighed in resignation, hating to leave his leader to die but at the same time feeling a very heavy burden being lifted from his shoulders. "Show her no mercy. Glory to the Decepticons."

"Glory to the Decepticons! And don't you ever forget it, coward!" Galvatron sneered. "Now where did that femme go? Come here, girly! I won't hurt you -- much!" His evil laugh followed Cyclonus down the corridor as he left his leader behind to be consumed by his own madness.


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Alita followed the crush of robots, which inevitably headed for the shuttle bay and the escape pods. She couldn't have broken free even if she had wanted to, for the crowd was very close to stampeding. She gasped, aghast, as small groups broke out in fist-fights over the pitifully small cluster of escape pods. 'So many of them won't make it out alive!' She stood transfixed in horror for a moment until someone stumbled into her, breaking the spell. She stumbled over to her small craft and pounded on the control panel, but to no avail. A security seal had been placed on the door, locking her out. She slumped against the craft in defeat, feeling resignation swamp over her. She was going to die. She had tried to prepare herself for this eventuality, but now that the moment was here she felt a sort of peacefulness drift over her. Soon she would be reunited with her long-dead friends. Soon she would become one with the Matrix.

Suddenly her body was filled with a tingling sensation, like a limb that had fallen asleep and was now being shaken awake. Something whispered in her mind, too soft to hear, but its message galvanized her. "I can't die now!" she cried aloud. "Optimus -- the others -- they need me! I have a --" The word 'destiny' froze on her lips. She was babbling, spouting out utter rubbish. Still, perhaps it had some kind of benefit, for it forced her to get moving, searching for an escape pod with room for one more. It was utter foolishness, she knew, to try to escape while leaving others to die, but the need to survive refused to loosen its grip. But how on Cybertron would she ever get out alive?

"Alita!" a voice cried. She whipped around, her mind preparing to summon her blaster. She'd been recognized!

"There you are! I've been so worried!" She went limp, almost collapsing with relief as Sport hurried over to her. "I was afraid you wouldn't make it! Good thing you suggested meeting here. Come on, I've got two spaces on an escape pod. The company might not be top notch, but it's better than getting blown to bits."

Alita barely listened, his voice itself sounding like an angel's music. In a strange way, she loved the young Decepticon, affection borne of gratitude.

"Well, looky what we've got here, boys! A real piece 'a work!"

Alita cringed as one of the escape pod's occupants ogled her curves. Gods, it was the Stunticons! Maybe death wasn't suck a bad alternative after all...

"Oh, give it a rest, Motormaster," Dead End said, unimpressed. "If we don't launch right now we'll all suffer a painful, lingering death. Not that that won't happen anyway."

No one stopped Wildrider from taking the controls, since the others figured he'd get them out of there the fastest. Alita tried to make herself comfortable next to Sport, trying to avoid the lecherous stares of the others.

"Yeehaaaah!" Wildrider grinned maniacally as the pod shot out of its berth and into the depths of space, rocketing away from the self-destructing behemoth.

Alita covered her face with her hands, thanking whatever deities existed that her anti-vertigo machinery was functioning. At this rate, she'd end up dead anyway.

* * * * *

"Where is she?" Galvatron raged, bumping into yet another wall in his quest for his escaped victim. He was rapidly running out of steam, finding that his blindness was a bit of a hindrance in his search. A rather unusual thing was happening. Galvatron was starting to second-guess his actions. He was starting to miss Cyclonus, since now he had no one to hit or scream at, or -- not that he ever needed it of course -- to advise him. His ravings merely echoed off the metal walls, coming back to him.

'Do I really sound like that?' he wondered. 'No, couldn't be. That sounds like a madman.' Clarity, long submerged, began to surface. What had Cyclonus said about the ship being in danger? Not that Galvatron was ever wrong about anything, but perhaps it might not be a bad idea to make his way over to the shuttle bay. After all, that's probably where that witch had run off to.

Galvatron stopped short as an ominous rumbling sound reached his audios and knew he was too late. The last of the cobwebs in his fevered mind cleared away, and he knew he was going to die. It was all due to his ill-conceived actions and his failure to listen to calmer heads. Now his capriciousness would get him killed.

He bowed his head as images of him hitting and screaming at Cyclonus flooded his CPU. Why had he treated such a worthy soldier with such contempt? Cyclonus was the one that stuck by him through everything, pointing out holes in his strategy while protecting him from vicious attacks on his character -- or worse, on his person. Cyclonus deserved to lead, not him. And now he would have his chance.

'What irony,' Galvatron thought bitterly. 'My blindness has finally allowed me to see.' Preliminary explosions barely registered in his mind. "Long live the Decepticons!" he cried defiantly. And, in a more subdued tone, "Good luck, Cyclonus." Then, despite his damaged optics, a blinding white flash filled his vision as the ship blew itself apart.

* * * * *

"May you rest in peace, Galvatron," Cyclonus murmured respectfully from his position at the viewport, watching the magnificent spectacle of the explosion. He didn't seem to notice the shockwaves that buffeted his pod, nor the frantic efforts of the crew to hold it steady.

Finally, as if in a dream, he turned to face his elite soldiers that had earned the right to share his escape pod, the largest and best equipped of them all. "Damage report," he ordered tersely.

The technician checked the readouts hastily. "Minimal hull damage," he announced with relief.

"Casualties?"

The tech frowned as he tried to compile the information. "Difficult to say, sir, since it's difficult to scan for individual life forms within the pods, but judging from the figures that I'm getting, we've lost about 425 soldiers.

Cyclonus cursed softly at the news. What a waste of fighting potential. He regretted their loss, but he stuck by his decision to limit the amount of escape pods in favor of enhanced weaponry. He'd had no idea that the ship would be destroyed so soon (or at all, for that matter) and hadn't arranged an escape plan. The Decepticon army had been dealt a harsh blow, and it would take quite some time to recover. The best thing to do now would be to retreat and lick their wounds.

"Open a channel to all escape pods," he ordered, and the technician hastened to obey.

"Attention, Decepticons!" Cyclonus boomed. "This is Cyclonus, your new leader. We have unfortunately lost our revered leader Galvatron in the explosion. He will be sorely missed, and his loss will be felt. As his second-in-command, the position of leadership falls to me. If there are any objections, you will address them directly to me and we will settle them, one way or another."

He was cut off by loud chanting. "All hail Cyclonus, leader of the Decepticons!" Cyclonus had been much preferred to the unstable Galvatron, and, for the moment, anyway, nobody was likely to challenge him.

Cyclonus allowed himself a moment to feel pleased at the acceptance, then continued. "We will withdraw to Seneca Prime for repairs and reinforcements. Believe me, all of you. This isn't over."


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

The Stunticons were silenced by the astonishing announcement of Galvatron's destruction and Cyclonus' ascension to power, but not for long. Soon they were back to their raucous old selves.

Motormaster swaggered his way over to Alita, intent on making his presence known. "Don't get too many femmes in this corner of space," he grinned widely. "Nice to have some company. How's about you and me get better acquainted?"

Sport spluttered angrily, but was silenced by a poke in the ribs from Alita. She appreciated his defense, but he'd only get himself into big trouble.

"Don't even try it," groaned Breakdown. "She'd just bite it off."

"Not quite," Alita smirked, standing up in the slightly cramped quarters. She raised her knee and impacted her harasser right where his codpiece seam met with the rest of his body. She couldn't suppress a little smile as Motormaster rolled on the floor in agony. Sport beamed at her, his crush firmly cemented.

"Told ya," said Breakdown, taking a bit of an interest in his teammate's suffering. "Shouldn't go around messing with femmes, they're vicious. 'Sides, she's probably Cyc's girl. Don't wanna get him mad at you."

"Sister, actually," she said. "The paint job wasn't a hint?" She bit back a smile as the other gazed at her in astonishment, which rapidly became respect.

"How about that!" Dragstrip whooped. "Cyc's got a sister! I can see why he kept her hidden; she's gorgeous! Uh, don't tell him I said that," he said hastily.

"Say, where are we going?" Alita said casually. "Not to join up with the others, I hope." Being taken back into enemy territory would cause just the tiniest problem, even worse than what she was faced with now.

All of the others looked confused. "Uh, why not?"

She shook her head impatiently. "Come on, you guys are so lame! You've finally got a chance to strike out on your own and grab some R&R instead of being screamed at by obnoxious commanders! Take advantage of it!"

The Stunticons all looked at each other, grins slowly spreading across their faces. "Yeaaah!" Wildrider cheered with his usual boundless enthusiasm. Then his face fell. "But Cyclonus--"

"Will never notice we're gone," she said firmly. "He's got his hands full with trying to assemble the other pods and retreat."

"Sounds great!" Wildrider cheered, accidentally pressing too hard on the throttle and causing everyone to lurch in their seats as the pod rocketed forward. "Uh, where do we go?"

Alita smirked triumphantly. "I know just the place."


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

For the rest of the journey Alita amused herself by spreading vicious rumors about the Decepticon high command. A little malicious gossip could be fun! "And Galvatron used to recharge with a teddy bear!" she whooped. The Stunticons all snickered at the sissy mental image.

"We're here," Dead End announced as he slowly nudged the unwieldy pod through the planet's atmosphere. Wildrider had been allowed to pilot them to their destination, but this maneuver required a steadier hand, and a more level head.

"So that's Monacus," Motormaster mused, studying the sleazy-looking planet. "My kind'a place!" The Stunticons all heartily agreed.

Despite all his dire predictions, Dead End managed to land the craft in one piece. The Decepticons all piled out for a night on the town, except for Sport, who lagged behind to wait for Alita. "Aren't you coming?" he asked as she started off in a different direction.

Alita cursed to herself as she turned to the young mech. She was grateful to him for saving her life, but she didn't want him to get too attached or learn too much. "Oh yes, I'm meeting my boyfriend here. Don't worry, he'll arrange for my transport back."

She felt a twinge of guilt as his crestfallen expression. "I should have known that you were too good for me," he said softly.

"Don't say that," she said sternly, lifting up his chin and forcing his gaze to meet hers. "It was my fault for leading you on. I was feeling lonely and missing my boyfriend, but I realize now that I can't cheat on him, not even with a terrific guy like you. Don't kick yourself, soon you'll have the girls swooning over you."

"You think?" Sport asked, his deflated pride beginning to swell up again.

Alita had to fight hard to smother a smile. She hoped his head wouldn't swell up *too* much. "Yeah, I think so. Now hurry and catch up to your friends before they start the fun without you." Impetuously, she kissed him on the cheek.

Sport smiled at her a bit bashfully. "I don't think I'll ever get to see you again, since high-ranking soldiers like you rarely socialize with the grunts like me. Still, I'll never forget you."

Alita nodded sadly. "No, I don't think we will meet again, but you saved my life. I'll never forget you either." Sport hugged her briefly, then let go and stepped away, trying to control his emotions.

"Hey, kid!" Wildrider yelled. "You comin' or not? You too, lady! You're missin' all the fun!"

"Goodbye," Sport whispered and hugged her. She hugged him back, surprised at the wave of emotion that hit her. Imagine feeling sorry for a Decepticon!

Sport turned away and visibly straightened himself up, determined to recover and have a good time. "Hey, guys, wait up!" he yelled. "I'm coming!"

Alita laughed as she watched Sport race after the receding specs on the horizon. He was young, he'd recover. She shook her head ruefully as she summoned her bonding bracelet from subspace and reattached it to her arm. She had removed it before her mission in fear that it might distract her with nostalgic thoughts and also attract unwanted attention, for bonding was a very rare practice. All the same, she had missed its comforting weight on her wrist and was very relieved to have it back where it belonged.

She roamed around Monacus, poking her head into one bar or casino after another. Her temper began to simmer as she endured innumerable cat calls while her quarry continued to elude her. Finally she found what -- or who -- she had been looking for in one of the darkest, scummiest bars on the planet. 'Figures,' she thought. 'Should have looked here first. Why he hangs out in these kinds of places is beyond me. I know it's all to catch dangerous criminals and all, but he does it for *fun!*'

She snuck over to his table and purred in his audio, "Hi there, handsome. Long time no see."

The robot jumped and nearly spilled his mug of enersuds. He whipped around, hand going for his weapon, then stopped and grinned when he saw who it was. "Alita! By the smelter, what are you doing here?" he asked curiously.

Alita grinned as she pushed a disgusting-looking creature out of its seat and inspected the surface, sitting down once she had ascertained that it was safe. "It's a long story, Defcon. Suffice it to say that I need your help. I'll tell you all about it if you buy me a drink."

"You're on," Defcon nodded, summoning the multiple-limbed waiter and ordering another round of enersuds, which Alita greedily consumed while telling her story.

Defcon shook his head when she finished, emitting a low whistle. "Damn girl, you've sure been through enough. Saved the universe's tail again, huh? And I can't believe you've gone and gotten yourself bonded. I know there was never really anything between us, but it's hard to imagine you tied down. I wish both of you the best, though."

Alita smiled, feeling rather touched. Despite his rough occupation, Defcon always knew how to treat a lady right. "But what about that little favor?"

"Right this way," he gestured with a sweep of his arm, quickly paying the bar tab and ushering her outside. "She might not look like much, but she'll get you where you need to go. I recently, *ahem*, acquired her from a few rogue 'Cons."

Alita stopped short when she caught sight of the small craft. "Defcon, it's got a huge 'Con symbol on it! I can't go flying up Iacon with that!"

Defcon grinned. "Nothing that a little paint won't solve." He quickly summoned one of the planet's scuttling creatures, who did the job in record time.

Still, Alita was not impressed. "Don't you think it's a bit obvious?" she asked, eyeing the hot pink splotch across the hull that hid the telltale insignia.

Defcon shook his head. "Dunno, but it'll have to do. That's all that we've got for the moment."

Alita nodded. "How much do I owe you?"

Defcon smiled at her. "Little lady, it's free of charge, in honor of your bonding and of our past happy memories. Now get in that thing and get going, the others are probably worried sick."

Alita shook her head ruefully. "No, they probably just think I'm dead. Thanks for your help, Defcon." She squeezed his hand in farewell. "Goodbye, and good luck! On this rock, you'll need it."

"Goodbye!" Defcon yelled over the engines. He waved until the ship was nothing but a small speck shooting out into space. "And good luck to you too."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

"Slag it!" Alita cursed as a hail of laser fire coursed down upon her ship. "I told Defcon that it wouldn't work!"

"Base to enemy vessel," the radio crackled. "Leave our airspace our you will be shot down."

"Alita One to Base," she hissed. "I have sent my identification codes. Confirm!"

"Base to vessel," the voice said nervously. "The codes have been nullified. Leave or you will be shot down."

"I can't believe this!" Alita roared. "Listen, you grunt down there! Get whoever's in charge up here on the double and tell them that Alita One requests landing clearance!"

There was bemused silence on the other end, showing that at least they were taking her request seriously. After a long stretch of moments, the weaponfire around her ceased, but the guns remained locked in on her position. The radio crackled to life once more. "Vessel, please confirm your identity. Over."

Alita sighed with relief. "Ultra Magnus, what's going on down there? I sent my clearance codes and you guys open fire on me."

Magnus was slow to reply. "Vessel, we still have not ascertained whether to give landing clearance."

"What?!!" Alita shrieked. "This is what I get after pulling off an impossible mission? I come limping back and you guys slam the door in my face! I swear, if you don't clear me I'm going to land anyway! Then I'll march into the control room, hijack the intercom, and read off a list of all the lovers you've ever had!"

The silence stretched out for eons, then finally Magnus announced, "Alita, you are cleared to land. I'll meet you in shuttle bay."

"Good. About time you set things straight. Alita One out."

Alita slowly guided the shuttlecraft into the docking bay, nearly overwhelmed by the emotions of relief that swamped her. She had never expected to return here again. She quickly shut down the engines and exited the craft, ecstatic to be on her home planet again.

Ultra Magnus slowly turned his gun away from her, aiming it at the craft, then slowly lowering it at her confused look. "Magnus, is there something wrong?" she asked.

Magnus allowed a rare grin to cross his face. "Not anymore, Alita. Primus, it's good to have you back." Swept away by emotion, he hugged her, confirming that she was indeed real.

Alita hugged him back briefly, then pulled away. "What's with the gun, Magnus?"

Ultra Magnus looked a bit shamefaced. "Sorry about that. We couldn't be sure that it was really you. The 'Cons could have stolen the codes from you, or one of them could have coerced you into flying them here. I needed some way to tell if it was really you or not, and if you had come here on your own volition. Frankly, we were mighty surprised when you turned up. Do me a favor, though? Please don't share my list of lovers with the entire base!"

Alita grinned slyly. "Don't worry, I think I'd only end up making everyone jealous." Her face darkened slightly as she looked around. "Say, where's Optimus? I thought he'd turn up to greet me too."

Magnus grew very somber. "Optimus hasn't been dealing with this whole thing very well. He hasn't talked with anyone at all once we confirmed that the Decepticon battleship had in fact been destroyed."

Alita shook her head. "I was afraid that might happen. I've got to see him right away!"

"No, Alita. The first stop is medbay. I understand that you want to see Optimus, but I'd like to make sure that you're all right, and to remove that awful Decepticon symbol if nothing else."

"I don't know, I think it rather suits me," Alita teased. Magnus looked absolutely horrified, but soon realized that it was a joke and tried to look amused, but failed miserably.

Alita impatiently endured First Aid's poking and interminable scans, all the while fretting about Prime's emotional state. She was finally pronounced in overall good condition, with the exception of a few burnt-out circuits and strained muscle cables. As she walked down the corridor to her mate's quarters, many Autobots did a double-take and conducted a diagnostic on their optics. Those that were friends ran to embrace her and begged to hear of her adventures. She returned their hugs joyfully but refused to go into any long stories until she had reassured herself that Optimus was all right. She had seen him in dark moods before and how they tore him up inside.

She hesitated at his door, a sudden thought worrying her. What if he'd changed the access code? She had a few panicked moments as the computer pondered her input, then the doors slid open. Alita automatically stepped in, then stopped short, momentarily blinded by the darkness within. As her optics quickly adjusted to the change in light, she could make out a huddled form on the recharge bed. From the way he uneasily stirred, his dreams were troubled and his sleep uneasy. She silently crept up to him, taking infinite care not to awaken him. A wave of pity swept over her as she studied his exposed face, streaked with trails of dried moisture, optics lined with exhaustion. His luster had dulled, and his overall appearance was one of weary neglect. Optimus had never been vain, but he had taken pains with his appearance, realizing that his role required him to look his best. Apparently his looks were now of little importance to him. He had most likely not recharged for days, but why? Would his conscience stalk him in his sleep?

Her hand reached out of its own accord and caressed his cheek. Her fuel pump twisted in sympathetic pain, wanting to ease his sorrows. She wanted to awaken him and assure him that she was alive, that he had no reason to feel guilty, but the voice of reason insisted against it. He needed his rest, and she didn't intend to go anywhere. It could wait until he had regained some of his strength. Still, she couldn't tear away her hand, fingers smoothing away the worry and exhaustion on his face.

She snatched her hand away as he abruptly stirred, but she was too late. Her light touches had pulled him from his light level of recharge to consciousness, as much as he could manage after weeks of unrest. His optics struggled to come online, glowing unhealthily. His vision finally focused on her, and he smiled faintly. "Such a nice dream," he sighed, placing his head on her shoulder. She caressed his helmet gently, assuring him, "This is no dream, Optimus."

A frown suddenly crossed his face, the change so abrupt that it was almost comical. "How can it not be a dream?" he sighed. "You're here..."

"Yes, I'm here, and you're not dreaming." She smiled at him gently, hands stroking his antennae, which always helped to relax him, unless he was in a frisky mood, when it only served to encourage him.

Prime's central processor puzzled through her words, running rather sluggishly. Suddenly realization hit him, and his optics widened, his jaw dropping open. Alita wasn't sure what she expected him to do -- whoop with joy, crush her in a bear hug, pass out in shock -- but what he *did* do took her by surprise. His mouth worked, struggling to voice his thoughts. "Thank Primus," he whispered, kneeling down at her feet, bowing his head. "I've been given a last chance. I may not be able to make things right again, but I can at least apologize."

"Optimus, you have nothing to apologize for," she said reassuringly.

Optimus gazed up at her, optics ablaze with pain. "Don't say that! Don't deny my pain, and your presence here. I've been granted the chance to apologize and say goodbye, and I'm not going to waste it." He clasped her hand fiercely in his own. "Alita, I--" his voice cracked slightly, "I love you. I don't know how I'm ever going to let you go. But I know I've only got a few moments with you, and I'm going to make the most of it. We've been together for almost as long as I can remember, and yet it still hasn't been enough. You deserved so much better than a few stolen moments. I know that ghosts refuse to go on to their rest because of unfinished business, and if you're here to vent your anger or seek vengeance, I won't deny you. But please let me say what's on my mind first. The guilt that weighs on my conscience is worse than any punishment I can think of. In time I may be able to live with it, but the weight will never entirely go away. I just want you to know how much you mean to me and how much I will miss you."

Alita's mouth hung open in shock. Great Cybertron, he thought she was a ghost! She prepared to interrupt, then shut her mouth with a snap. Confession seemed to be a sort of catharsis for Optimus, and he needed to relieve himself of his emotional burdens. She stroked his hand with her thumb as he gazed up at her solemnly.

"I know that I can never fully atone for your death, but I am grateful for the chance to apologize and make my peace. I could never have another relationship with another woman, for she would be placed in danger as well. I know that we had sworn long ago to continue if the other one had died, but I could never subject another to what you had to suffer because of me. Not only your death, but the daily agony of separation. It is only fitting that I atone for my error alone. I know that I don't deserve it, but I will be forever grateful for the opportunity to apologize."

Alita tugged at his shoulders, coaxing her mate to slowly rise and face her. He ducked his head, guiltily avoiding her optics. She grabbed his chin in her hand and forced him to look at her. "Listen to me," she said slowly and firmly. "You have nothing to feel guilty over. Yes, it was your decision to send me and I won't belittle it. But you did what you had to do, and I knew the risks involved when I volunteered. Your decision was based on logic, the responsibility of a capable commander, not a mate. Don't beat yourself up over this."

She placed both hands on either side of his head, directing her gaze directly into his. "Believe me when I say this: *I* *am* *alive*. Not a dream, not a ghost, but *alive*!"

Optimus jerked out of her grasp, shaking his head as he took a step back, refusing to let the impossible sink in. "It can't be," he whispered. "The battleship was destroyed, and you with it. I killed you!" he cried, face lined in anguish.

Alita spread her hands out pleadingly, trying to convince him of the truth. "Look at me! I am not transparent, I am not imaginary. Use your senses, see that I am real and whole. I am not pink, the way you remember me, nor do I still wear the Decepticon symbol that would have marked me in death. I have altered my physical appearance, as I doubt a ghost or a dream could do. If you were dreaming, you'd imagine me as I were, perhaps even as Ariel from happier times."

Optimus looked far from convinced. "I know nothing about ghosts, but maybe they can choose their forms. Perhaps this is the one you selected to haunt me with."

Alita frowned. This was getting ridiculous! "I doubt I'd float around sporting fresh weld marks and a bandage plate." She showed him First Aid's recent handiwork, watching his reactions closely. Judging from the shock creeping over his face, realization was beginning to dawn. Now for the crowning touch. "And a ghost or a dream wouldn't have this." She reached out and captured his hand, holding tight as Optimus tried to draw away. She gently placed her hand over her fuel pump, secured under layers of metal. Optimus could feel the slight pulsing beneath her armor, his sensors confirming the comforting beating of her central pump, carrying lifeblood through her body.

Alita gently released his hand, but it remained in place, caressing the metal lightly, reassuring himself that he was not imagining it. Her tone turned scolding. "Why is it so hard to believe that I survived? You selected me because I was the best qualified for the mission, and now you're shocked that I succeeded. Really, Optimus, I thought you had more confidence in me than that."

Prime's optics suddenly lost their focus, staring blindly ahead in shock. Her sharp words were jerking him back to reality faster than her cooing and soothing. Alita's stern facade faded as the shock of her return finally began to set in for Optimus. His hands, trembling so badly he could hardly control them, reached out to cup her face, clumsily stroking her firm jawline. "Is it really you?" he rasped.

Alita caught one of his hands, kissing it while staring into his optics. "Yes, it's me," she whispered. "Alive and well. I'm all right, and you will be too."

Prime's knees buckled suddenly, and he would have collapsed to the ground if Alita had not grabbed him around the waist and wrestled him onto the bed. He sat there staring up at her in shock, mouth struggling to voice words. A ragged sob tore from his chest as his body began to tremble violently. Alita was frightened by his reaction -- he seemed as if he was going to shake himself apart. His naked gaze locked with hers, his walls and barriers in rubble. He looked so vulnerable and lonely, the emotional scars from his long life written on his face. A drop of cleansing fluid slipped down his cheek, followed by another. His defenses were utterly demolished, and he could not even duck his head to hide his tears. He was deathly silent as fluid trickled down his face, his quiet grief hitting harder than any sobbing fit.

Alita's primary pump twisted in shared agony, seeing his nerves stripped bare. Her finger brushed at the rivulets of liquid, but her efforts did little to assuage the tiny rivers. She took her mate in her arms, cradling his head on her shoulder as her hands smoothed over his broad, shivering back. His arms wrapped around her slight form, crushing her desperately against him. Now that she was back, he couldn't bear to be apart from her, and some corner of his mind insisted that she would melt away if he didn't keep hold of her. He relived every tragedy of his long life all over again, experiencing fresh pain at the ancient events, long buried in his subconscious. The emotions washed over him, drowning him in agony. But releasing his ghosts helped to cleanse him, forcing him to confront himself. Now that the barriers in his mind had been torn down, the healing could begin.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

It was several days before Optimus could let Alita out of his quarters without panicking. The first night he had been too exhausted resist recharge, despite the fear that she would not be there when he awoke. Alita had been woken several times by his muttering and nervous thrashing, but her soothing hands and voice managed to calm his nightmares, and soon he was deep in peaceful recharge. Once he was comfortable and quiet, she joined him in dreamland, snuggling close to him, reassuring him with her silent presence and taking comfort from his solid bulk as well. The next day she bustled about, tidying up as Prime continued his much-needed rest. He came out of his stupor slowly, then shot up bolt upright, anxiously searching. When he caught sight of her, the tension relaxed and he smiled shyly, a bit overwhelmed by his emotions.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," she smiled affectionately.

"Hey yourself," Optimus smiled back.

"Optimus, why does Magnus have the Matrix?" she asked abruptly, then instantly began cursing herself. He needed some more time before he would be ready to answer such questions.

"How did you know that?" he frowned, his mind momentarily distracted from his suffering.

"I sense its absence from within you. Perhaps that is due to the bond that Alpha Trion gave us."

Optimus looked unconvinced. "But how did you know that Magnus has it?"

Alita opened her mouth to reply, then stopped, pondering the question. "I'm not sure," she said slowly. "I could have sworn that he told me, but I can't remember him saying the words. I guess I somehow just knew."

Optimus looked puzzled. "Maybe you've acquired an affinity for the Matrix through your bond with me."

"Perhaps. I just don't know," Alita sighed. This was the least of her concerns at the moment. It could wait until later; right now Optimus needed her.

The next few days were spent coaxing Optimus out of the protective shell that he'd built around himself after she had gone. Alita could see how painful it was for him, facing the pain again, but with the pain came the ability to feel once more, to love, and the desire to go on. He haltingly shared all of his nebulous fears and anxieties, and several secrets so dark that he had kept them hidden from her. The burdens on his soul began to grow lighter, and he became curious about the outside world once more.

It was a few days more before Optimus would allow Alita to leave his sight. She spoke to his friends, urged them to contact him by e-mail, but not by more direct methods. He had come to fear the outside world as a source of pain, and reintroduction would have to be slow. Happily, the adjustment was not as long as she feared. Optimus soon willingly accepted radio messages, and then began cautiously initiating contact himself. The day he consented to visitors nearly moved Alita to tears of joy.

Today would be the last step in his gradual but steady recovery. Optimus stroked the battle mask that concealed his face. He hoped one day to remove it permanently, but right now he needed it for emotional support, sort of like a security blanket that he needed to face the outside world. He straightened his shoulders and stepped outside of his quarters, Alita following slowly behind.

Optimus nodded stiffly at the passerby in the halls, who nodded in return, a questioning look on their faces, but a stern glare from Alita kept them from inquiring. Alita didn't want Optimus to feel crowded and overwhelmed. Optimus greeted his closer friends with a bit more warmth, glad to be out and about again. Now that he was feeling better, his quarters felt confining. The scars were not completely gone, but he was eager to get on with his life.

Optimus pushed open the door to his office, then jumped in surprise when he saw Magnus behind the desk. He shook his head briefly, mentally berating himself. Of course Magnus was in his office -- Optimus still was not prepared to resume leadership, but it was strange to be on the other side of the desk.

Magnus rose and came around the desk to clasp Prime's hand in his own. "Good to see you, Optimus," he said warmly, relieved to see his old friend up and about.

"Likewise, Magnus," Optimus replied, returning the handshake. "It's good to be back among the living. How have things been going?"

"It was hairy for awhile. I honestly don't know what we would have done had Alita not succeeded in destroying the battleship. The Decepticon forces have not been eliminated by a long shot, but they're stunned and reeling. They'll be feeling this blow for a long time to come."

"That's good to hear," Optimus said in relief. His conscience had begun to prick him about what could have happened in his absence, but he still just couldn't face returning to his old post.

A sharp gasp from Alita made them both turn. She was clutching her chest, optics blazing brightly. "What's happening to me?" she cried. "It burns!"

Magnus locked optics with her, and some silent communication seemed to pass between them. His hands moved to his chest of their own accord, tracing the metal plating. And for the first time, he felt a response from the Matrix. The device pulsed within him, sending out gentle waves of energy. He shivered at the sensations. For this brief moment he understood what it was like to be Chosen, to have a rapport with the alien device, their symbol of hope and courage. But all he would ever have was this small taste of a world completely out of his comprehension, and that was fine with him. He doubted that he could cope with such a connection on a daily basis. The Matrix was giving him a first and last communication -- a suitable bearer had been Chosen.

"By the Matrix!" Optimus breathed, not realizing the aptness of the cliche. The sight before him was too fantastical to be believed, and he hastily ran a diagnostic on his optic sensors. He was witnessing the transferral of the Matrix to the next Chosen One, an event that he had thought he'd never get to see before death. Of course, he *had* died more than once before and transferred the Matrix himself, but he had known full well that Magnus was not the Chosen One, nor had Hot Rod been ready at the time to assume his responsibilities. And, above all, he'd certainly never believed that there would be another Autobot leader while he still lived.

In a trance, Alita stepped forward, drawn to the beckoning object within Magnus' chest casing. Dreamily he opened his chest panels, and the room was bathed in a soft yet blinding white glow. Energy pulsed within the crystalline facets of the Matrix, energy that seemed to reach out to the curvy purple figure. Magnus removed the Matrix and held it aloft, understanding the momentous importance of the occasion. "I believe this belongs to you," he said softly as he placed it in Alita's small hands.

"Thank you for keeping it safe," she replied softly as she brought the Matrix towards her chest. A small panel swung upwards, and within lay a perfect niche. Optimus frowned. He knew Alita's body inside out, and he was sure that this panel hadn't been there before. It was possible that it was a modification made for her mission, but that wasn't very likely. Was it possible that it was a modification made by the Matrix? The device had been known to adjust things to its specification, especially regarding its hosts.

Alita smiled beatifically as she slid the Matrix into place, panel sliding shut and hiding it from view. It all felt so right somehow, like fate. She felt tingles rushing through her body as the Matrix accessed her systems and began upgrading and modifying her defense systems. Her body changed slightly, but not nearly as much as Hot Rod's, becoming a bit more solid and durable, not to mention powerful. She no longer appeared so fragile and delicate. Her purple paint coat gleamed, and her Autobot brand seemed to be glowing.

The magical spell began to wear off, jerking the three back to reality. Alita stared down at her chest in disbelief. "Am -- I the Autobot leader?" she said in disbelief. Optimus nodded, beaming.

"But I don't understand. Why me? Why now?"

Optimus shook his head. "Nobody can ever fully understand the Matrix or its motives, but I can try to hazard a guess. You have been chosen now because there is a void that needs to be filled. You may have been chosen in particular for several reasons. You have just undergone a difficult trial of sorts that has undoubtedly changed you and prepared you for great responsibilities. You have also been close to the Matrix in a way for many years through me. You also have a special spirit, a certain fire that is needed to lead, a passion that I'm afraid Magnus lacks. Sorry, Magnus." Magnus waved away the apology dismissively. He wasn't offended by the remark, since he had never been eager to bear the burden of leadership of all troops.

Prime's tone turned teasing. "Besides, the Matrix has good taste. I couldn't imagine a cosier place to be stored than your chest."

Alita mock scowled and smacked his arm. "Cut it out! This is no joke. Am I really suited for the job? Will the others accept me? This is going to change everything. I'm just not sure it will work out. What do I know about leading?"

"More than I knew than I started," Optimus reassured her. "I had the same doubts and fears, and I managed to do all right, despite a few scrapes along the way. The Matrix has Chosen and accepted you, and the others will in time, some right away, while others will need more time. If they could adjust to Hot Rod, I'm sure they will have no problem with you. You're going to be an excellent leader. I know you can do it. I have faith in you."

Alita clasped his hand, moved by his words. "But what about you?"

"What about me?" Optimus replied. "The Matrix has already made its decision. I don't think I could face leading again as it is. I have too much on my conscience, and I can't face sending someone else to die. I'm sorry to have placed this burden on you, but it's part of the responsibility of leadership."

Alita nodded. "I've faced that situation before," she said sadly. "It was a terrible decision to make, but I knew that it had to be done, and I managed to go on."

"I guess this means that Orion Pax is back," Optimus mused.

"If so, it will be in name only," Alita said firmly. "We both know that you have changed far too much to go back to who you were. Orion is dead, while Optimus lives on. I don't mind if you keep 'Prime' as your name, for it is who you are. Leadership has sculpted you into the mechanism you are today, and the loss of the title changes nothing inside." She stroked his helmet affectionately. "Your name reflects your courage and compassion, your brave deeds and wise decisions. All of that is still inside of you, and I won't rob you of it. You have earned your name, and I insist that you keep it."

"As you command," Optimus said teasingly. Alita tried to smother a smile. He was teasing her already.

"What about you, Magnus?" Alita asked. "Do you have any problems with this? I don't want you to feel pushed aside."

Magnus smiled. "Not at all. I'm relieved to relinquish the reins of command to you. It was a burden that I never felt comfortable with -- too high-pressure and high-profile. I prefer to keep the smaller areas going. And Optimus is right; I can't think of anyone better suited to lead than you. But what are you going to call yourself?"

"Good question. I don't know if I want to change my name, but if I do I will be called... Prima."

Optimus knelt reverently at her feet, one arm across his chest, covering his fuel pump, head bowed in respect. "Hail Prima, leader of the Autobots. I swear eternal loyalty and service to you."

Alita smiled down at him tenderly, touched by his demonstration of acceptance and show of faith. "I never doubted you, but it's still reassuring to hear. Now please, get up and face me like an equal." Optimus rose to his feet and gazed at her questioningly. "I know that you will not resume leadership, but you won't be able to endure staying out of the loop for long. You need to be in the thick of things, thinking ahead and planning counter-moves instead of sitting alone in your quarters brooding or going stir-crazy. I have no idea how you managed to lead for so long without a clear second-in-command. And if you don't mind me putting it so bluntly, I'd love for you to be my second."

Optimus looked taken aback at the surprise announcement. He thought it over for a moment, then a smile broke through under his mask. "It sounds perfect. This way I can take some of the pressure off of you without feeling too much of it myself. I wish I had done this myself, but I guess I had felt too unsure of who to trust when alliances were just beginning to cement, and later on I was just too set in my ways, not to mention the fact that the others looked upon me as a god, not someone to directly work with. I'll help you out in any way I can."

"You can help prepare me to be sworn in as leader. And after that comes our bonding ceremony."

Prime's stunned look was almost laughable. "I never thought I'd live to see it," he choked.

Alita shook him gently. "Hey, don't go getting all mushy on me! I need a competent second to hold things together. You've got to be ready to act on my orders."

A wicked grin spread across his face. "I certainly don't mind working under a woman."

"Don't get cocky, buster, or you'll find your tailgate cooling off in the brig!" she snapped, practicing her commanding voice, which was frosty and no-nonsense but had no effect on Prime's impish expression, since he could see right through her. "Yes, ma'am. Anything you say, leader ma'am," he deadpanned.

Magnus chuckled, watching the exchange like a fast-paced tennis match. Funny, wasn't it, that after so much had changed, the important things stayed the same.

The End


End file.
